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II 



AUTHOR'S NOTE. 

These few sketches which are but a slight attempt 
to gather together some of my scattered articles, appeared 
in The Outlook, N. Y. Times, N. Y. World, Brooklyn Eagle, 
Washington Pott, etc., and also fragments of lectures de- 
livered throughout the country, — are not intended for the 
book market, but purely as an accommodation for my 
friends interested in this vital subject. 

Having lived in Russia for rearly a decade, I have 
had the time and opportunity to make a thorough study of 
that unfortunate country. The last year of my sojourn 
was passed under the Bolshevik Rule, a year of vicissi- 
tudes, which included hunger, captivity and eventually an 
escape to the United States. My knowledge is accordingly 
first hand, and to some extent I have tried to incorporate 
actual events, experiences and people into these few pages. 

My thanks are due to the editors of the above men- 
tioned publications for the permission to reprint their 
rightful material. 

ALES. H. CARASSO, 

Frederick, Md., 
December, 1920. 



II 



TO MY ONLY CHILD, JURAH-GEORGE, 
WHOSE FATE IS YET IN THE HANDS 
OF GOD, THIS DOCUMENT OF TYR- 
ANNY I DEDICATE. 



01j^ JImttattfln nf (ttaitt 

BY 
A. H. CARASSO 



GERMANY'S ROLE 

Turning the pages of the French Revolution, one 
sees with amazement the remarkable similarity to 
horrible happenings now in Russia. The hundred 
and thirty odd years intervening these bloody 
epochs is barely noticeable. The tremendous pro- 
gress in industry and culture developed within this 
span of time has brought no change in the art of 
Revolution. Telegraph and railroad, steamship and 
wireless, telephone, street car, automobile and aero- 
plane display no distinguishing role in the eternal 
struggle of masses and classes. In other words the 
remarkable material evolution of the past century 
or so has wrought no transfiguration of human na- 
ture. 

The tiger prowling among mortal lusts in the 
Eighteenth Century has risen to towering height 
in the present, the Twentieth Century. Beasts in hu- 
man form, as Robespierre, Danton, Marat, Char- 
lotte Corday and others, have now merely changed 
name to Lenine, Trotzky, Bruievitch, Zinoveiff, 

1 



Sverdloff, Uritsky, Stekloff and Madame Colontay. 
There are even the same parties: Octobrists — Jako- 
bines (Bolsheviki), G-erondists (Mensheviki, or So- 
cial Revolutionaries), and so forth. But this point 
of difference is paramount; — the dignity and grace, 
the spirit and sincerity of the old guillotinists are 
absolutely lacking in the Russian-hangmen of to- 
day. 

In the French Revolution, as in the three Rus- 
sian upheavals; of 1905 and of February and October 
1917, neighboring G-ermany played no unimportant 
part. Her's was always the hand outstretched to 
traitors and destructionists in both Revolutionary 
camps. Her cannon always stood ready to shelter 
these undesirable perverters. To her ears the wail- 
ing and gnashing of chaos and despair uplifted from 
neighboring homes always sounded as sweet music. 
Dangling the hook in her neighbor's streams of blood 
and tears was always a favorite sport. 

But the Twentieth Century Teutons were not 
unmindful of the overwhelming defeat suffered by 
the famous Brunswick army in 1791. Another stra- 
tegy was therefore attempted during the Russian 
revolution; instead of armies, Prussia sent a hand- 
ful of political adventurers who could play upon the 
base instincts of the unenlightened Russian masses. 
With the aid of these adventurers, literally shower- 
ed with gold, G-ermany succeeded in accomplishing 
what the Brunswick forces could never do, namely, 
the collapse of a formidable nation of two hundred 
millions. 

Germany was indeed aware that Russia, be- 
cause of her powerful alliances, could never be de- 



feated in open battle. Therefore, even in the 
midst of her triumphant beginning she had not much 
faith in a victorious outcome. During the first year 
of the war, when America was still protecting Ger- 
man interests in Russia, it befell me as courier to 
visit Germany. These were the days of conquest, 
entire provinces of Poland, Belgium and France 
with their enormous resources having quickly come 
into German possession. Nevertheless, all was not 
aglow in political circles. In response to my inquiry 
came the complaining reply:. **The whole world is 
against us. Now if the revolt should break in Rus- 
sia then our victory would be assured. With degen- 
erate France and * watery' England we can reckon 
at will.*' (America was not seriously considered 
then — merely a *^ paper hero"). 

Germany scattered her agents over the surface 
of the glebe penetrating everywhere Russian rev- 
olutionists could be found. She perceived the sinis- 
ter truth that every ideal group must have its turn- 
coats, and with these turn-coats she drove her bar- 
gain. Gold, the sustenance of turn-coats, was little 
spared. Thousands, indeed millions of dollars, 
passed from hand to hand, from border to border. 

When the February revolution suddenly broke 
forth in Russia as of its own accord, when the reins 
of rule passed into the hands of such loyal and de- 
voted sons as Milyukoff, Count Lvoff, Cutchkoff, 
Shingarcff, and when the rhetorical phrases of 
Kerensky were reaching far beyond the Russian bor- 
ders; Germany started momentarily in awe, con- 
fusion and terror. The early days of this great and 
wonderful bloodless revolution presaged a genuine 

3 



republic, such as the United States, conceivably, of 
whose power Grermany was now gradually becoming 
convinced. Imagine, a republic of two hundred mil- 
lion souls; in all of Germany's dreams, she never 
pictured such nightmare. But this fright was short, 
the first decree of Kerensky, absolving the ten mil- 
lion army of respect to officers and discipline, was 
suflicient to revive the German hope immediately. 
The enemy became more active than ever.. Thou- 
sands of agents, with car-loads of gold, poured 
across the undefended Russian borders — and the 
carousal began. 

Together with those sincere Revolutionists for 
whom the gates of their home land were opened 
gladly, were smuggled traitors bent on fulfilling the 
German mission. With their assistance the habit 
of fraternizing was fostered between Russian and 
Teuton soldiers. For the brandy bottle or tobacco 
pouch generously offered by the German, the unso- 
phisticated Slav willingly exchanged his weapons 
which, as he imagined, Russia no longer needed and 
often, too, his uniform and boots. This fraterniza- 
tion among the ** international proletariat was 
preached by thousands of Russian '* revolutionists'' 
whose General Headquarters were in the gorgeous 
palace of the ex-Czar's favorite, dancer, Kshesyn- 
skaia. 

And the greatest Russian mouth-piece ''THE 
FIRST LOVE OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLU- 
TION" as the people then called Kerensky, anxious 
to correct the error of his first decree, which he real- 
ized at last, began speaking, and writing other de- 
crees but instead of battering things he made them 



worse. The Russian soldier had already perceived 
the weakness of the ''hero leader/' who abolished 
the death penalty and opened jails, and was conse- 
quently demoralized himself. Without the least 
qualm, battalions of men abandoned arms and broke 
ranks, making tracks to the Capital where a splen- 
did reward was expected for three years of suffering 
in the trenches. But the Russian nation, gradually 
recovering itself, did not receive the deserters witt 
any cordiality. Then — then these deserters were 
treated to a welcome reception in Kshesynskaia's 
palace, where Lenine, Trotsky, Kameniev and Kemp 
had entrenched themselves. Machine guns and can- 
non looked on with a friendly eye from every door 
and window. The gory Bolshevik pennant blazoned 
with the flaring inscription of pure German gold 
flaunted proudly over the old city of Peter the G-reat. 
Thus was laid the foundation of the bloody Bol- 
shevik Army. Yes, on this front the treacherous 
tactics of Germany were indeed successful. But one 
event was not foreseen by Wilhelm! Namely, that 
he too would have to drain the cup in which he had 
administered poison to his neighbor. 



KERENSKY 

Now, who is responsible for the ruin of that 
great country, for the oceans of innocent blood and 
for the infectious red disease which is poisoning the 
world? Who endowed the red maniacs with such a 
destructive pov/er? Nicholai Lenine could, positively 
never have gained it, were it not for the utter impo- 
tence of the new republic's absolute dictator, Alex- 
ander Kerensky. One glance at his works dur- 
ing the short term of his dictatorship will show you 
how he had justified the confidence the great nation 
had bestowed upon him. 

From the moment of his advent in the polit- 
ical arena, Kerensky, as it seemed to any capable ob- 
server, was merely on opportunist. His decrees and 
oratory, redundant with innumerable pretty phrases, 
were seldom consistent. In fact, what could really 
be expected from a young man in the thirties, of 
mediocre abilities? 

Who was Kerensky before the revolution? An 
average lawyer, prominent merely for a few ''rad- 
ical'* cases which he fought and seldom won. Pos- 
ing before the working class as a ''champion of per- 
secuted peoples" his declamation, reeking with class 
feeling and pathos appealed strongly to the indis- 
criminating proletariat— sm.oothing the path for 
him directly into their hearts. Thence— into the 
Duma. 



I recall my first glimpse of the Man, Kerensky. 
It was on February 11, 1917, in the courtyard of the 
Tavritchesky Palace. He was in the midst of an 
eloquent discourse, apologizing to the laboring 
masses for assuming the ministry of justice without 
their consent. 

**Tim.e was brief," he argued, ''The first repub- 
lic had to be formed over night for us — to present 
it before the great Russian people today in place of 
the old rotten regime whose favorites — partly be- 
hind these heavy doors you see yonder" — indicating 
the inner portals of the Duma. 

This was the first day of Russia's liberation. 
Kerensky revelled as the hero of the working class. 
Little astonishment was therefore, to be found in the 
fact that the multitude embraced his profuse apol- 
ogy with thundering applause and thoughtless 
shouting. 

''Long live the first minister of the people, the 
comrade, Kerensky!" 

Together with my wife I studied the scene 
from my vantage point near the outer stairway — 
the improvised platform from which Kerensky was 
delivering his harangue — and carefully, his per- 
sonal appearance. 

He was barely more than medium height, of 
slender physique, rather weary-worn for his thirty 
odd years, his eyes, not distinctive, of greenish- 
brown color, and ever restless, his narrow brow in- 
tensified the sensuousness of his mouth and retreat- 
ing chin — this last feature hinting of a weak char- 
acter. 

"Well, what do you think of him?" my wife in- 
terrupted my study. 

7 



''He impresses me little,'* I was forced to ad- 
mit. ''Lots of pomposity— but utter lack of genuine 
greatness. No conviction. Also his talk — more 
bluster than logic. '* 

I am not certain that my wife agreed with me 
that day. Since Kerensky was for the moment 
the idol raging in the hearts of the young women. 
But in the course of days since elapsing, I am sure, 
that she was constrained to recognize the truth of 
my first impression. 

Vladimir Bourtzeff, one of the most honest and 
competent Russian revolutionists, declared that 
he did not regard Kerensky as a sincere socialist. 
Bourtzeff was indeed correct. Nevertheless it is 
true that Kerensky must be considered one of the 
foremost figures of the February revolt. He severed 
the thread of the Russian monarchy. 

When the Czar issued his decree on February 
8th, disbanding the Duma, it must be admitted Ke- 
rensky was the one who defiantly exhorted a frac- 
tion of the delegates to remain in the Tavritchesky 
palace. It was Kerensky 's inciting argument that 
inflamed his colleagues into the combative opinion 
that they, not the Monk Rasputtin's favorites were 
representing the people. 

Yes, for the February revolution we owe much 
to Kerensky. But that October reaction must also 
be attributed to him, for none other was so deeply 
responsible for the tragic Bolshevist debacle. It 
was his covetousness for titles and higher political 
achievements that ruined Russia. The post of min- 
istry of justice in the new regime, which he assum- 
ed without waiting for the workers' consent, had 

8 



not long suited the mediocre lawyer Kerensky; his 
ambition seemed hitched to a higher star. Strong 
self-interest, evidently goaded him onward. The 
Russian proletariat, versed in political as in Martian 
affairs yielded willingly to his design: ^'Wouldst as- 
sume the ministry of the interior?" ''Very well, as- 
sume it." 

"Wouldst have supreme command of the army 
and navy?" "Why then become commander in 
chief." 

''Wouldst enjoy the Czar's Chambers in the 
Winter Palace?" "Why gladly, comrade, take even 
the entire castle. We believe in you. We trust in 
you. Only make us happy!" 

No wonder the intellectuals jested that his next 
step would be the Pariarchate. 

It is self-evident that a pure lover of his people 
would not have danced so nimbly from pillar to post, 
eagerly seizing after positions of importance, tho 
lacking necessary training and knowledge. What 
remotest contact could this average lawyer ever 
have had with matters of army and navy adminis- 
tration? Does a genuine patriot seek so ardently his 
personal interests when these are but harmful to his 
nation? Truly, Kerensky must have considered 
himself a second Napoleon — the Napoleon of the 
Russian revival. In his eagerness to gain the pop- 
ular confidence, Kerensky had, first off, issued a de- 
cree that all enlisted men in army and navy be on 
terms of equality with their officers. All insignias of 
rank, as epaulettes, crosses of honor, medals, etc., 
were to be abolished. None but the revolutionary 
cross was to be recognized; despite the fact that the 

9 



whereabouts of a revolutionary army were then un- 
known, even to Kerensky. We know now the result 
of this perverse manifesto; massacre of thousands 
of officers in Cronstadt, Wyburg, and elsewhere. 
How did Kerensky react to this gruesomness? What 
a shame to tell. Instead of applying vigorous meas- 
ures, without which all revolution is helpless, this 
''Statesman'' broke into tears and like the Pharisees 
of old, beat his breast before the crowded audience 
of the State Theatre. ''Oh rather had I died two 
months ago than have lived to see this state of af- 
fairs,*' was his wail now classic. And I quite agree 
with him. Russia would have been spared the de- 
gradation to which she has been reduced as the re- 
sult of his surviving the first revolution. 

Soon after this tragic declaration, Kerensky in 
his great despair, performed one of his greatest po- 
litical acts, namely: he abandoned his wife and mar- 
ried a notorious stage beauty. 

Realizing at this time the topsy-turvy condition 
of the country, the anarchy brooding abroad, and the 
wily gain of G-ermany at every one of his indiscreet 
steps, Kerensky attempted to recall his demoral- 
ized army. But this had now become a disorganized 
horde of murderers and robbers roaming the coun- 
try. We know the futility of his pathetic appeals. 
He accomplished nothing more than the gathering 
of a vast mob of criminals he himself had released 
from jail. A touch of the comic was in this last de- 
cree of Kerensky 's, for instance, his promise to all 
freed criminals willing to appear at an appointed 
time, to receive only half of their legitimate pen- 
alty. The absurdity of such law making is obvious, 

10 



but at that moment in Russia, nothing seemed ab- 
solutely preposterous. Indeed, certain defectives 
even faithfully kept their voluntary appointment 
with the commission. 

An official asked some of these conscientious 
convicts: ''How much longer were you to serve ''^ 
One replied that his sentence had expired a week 
ago. Another admitted he had a minor portion of a 
term yet due. "For how long were you sentenced?*' 
queried the official, the first convict, "for life, your 
honor," was the unwitting reply. 

With such remedies Kerensky tried to adminis- 
ter to the gasping, dying Russia; how effectively — 
we can see only today. 

For a little while, he was spurred to greater ac- 
tivity, when his reputation was nearly lost in the 
eyes of the allied entente, he flew to all fronts spit- 
ting volleys of encouragement at the soldiers, ex- 
horting the officers whom shortly before he nearly 
annihilated, and recalling such famous generals as 
Alexeieff, Ruzsky, Krasnoff, the honest Korniloff and 
others, His grandiose promises to these fighters were 
productive of that memorable tenth of August bat- 
tle, where it almost seemed that the great Russian 
Army had come to life again. It almost seemed so! 

But it merely was the last flicker of a dying 
flame, glowing momentarily as all of Kerensky's 
achievements. His resounding phrases were imme- 
diately thereafter drowned in the overwhelming 
tumult brought on by the energetic preachers of the 
Bolshevik gospel. The latter keenly exposed the 
weaknesses of their quixotic opponent; no difficult 
task for such clever stump speakers as Trotzky or 

11 



Zinovieff. They demonstrated N. Lenine's definite 
program in contrast to Kerensky's which did not ex- 
ist. Dazzling were their promises to the peasants 
and workers of equal land and v/ealth distribution, 
to be effected immediately, and not when Kerensky 
took it into his head to call a National Assembly. 
They have pledged a heavenly Kingdom on earth 
with Lenine as their Savior and protector. And the 
unenlightened Russian Masses have willingly be- 
lieved, and battalion after battalion deserted the Ke- 
rensky trenches and joined the communist camp. 
City after city had thus unresistingly passed into 
the hands of the enemy. In addition to this calam- 
ity arose the obscure Korniloff — Kerensky affair, 
hastening the end. Tho regarded as a ''mystery" 
by some, there is in reality no secret as to what act- 
ually happened. 

When the force of his last blunder in the form 
of the lightning growth of the Bolsheviki, was 
brought home to Kerensky, he was seriously scared. 

The frequent parades of the Extreme Reds, with 
rifles and banners bearing the menacing slogans: 
''Down with the Bourgeoise Rulers'' "Full Power 
for the Soviets" "Down with the bloody War," 
"The Soil for the Peasants," etc., all these had their 
effect. The multitude began to feel cool towards its 
"First Love" and turned to their new idol "the 
friend of the people" Nicolai Lenine. In despera- 
tion Kerensky made secret overtures to the ablest 
and most beloved Russian General, Korniloff, be- 
seeching him to advance immediately to Petrograd 
and help sway the reins of power. 

Aged General Korniloff, a genuine patriot, 

12 



waived the frequent insults heaped upon him by the 
young upstart upon hearing that Petrograd, city of 
his heart's desire, was in danger. Hastily he rallied 
the bravest of his loyal remnant and began to march 
at once. But Lenine received word of this in time, 
and unhesitatingly trained the throats of his ma- 
chine-guns and field-pieces with utmost accuracy at 
Kerensky's dwelling chambers, the Royal Winter 
Palace. A well-armed Red Guard composed of the 
premier's own former stalwarts inspected all per- 
sons entering or leaving the dictator's grounds. The 
Sailors always more friendly to Lenine, anchored 
two battleships opposite the Winter Palace. And 
one of the Bolshevik leaders, I believe the late Urit- 
zky, telephoned to Kerensky bluntly: '*The mo- 
ment comrade Kerensky undertakes any negotia- 
tions with Korniloff, he and his family will be blown 
to the skies. Our cannons are watching you at ev- 
ery side, and they will tell you it's no joke." 

Kerensky, whose bravery had consisted mostly 
in bristling phrases, here meekly acquiesced. In 
sharp distinction to others of Russia's loyal sons, 
who have more than once offered their lives for the 
salvation of their beloved motherland, Kerensky 
bided his time and finally managed to flee Petrograd 
in safety. 

As to the sequel, it is well known. Korniloff 
confident of meeting Kerensky, courageously and 
unsuspectingly advanced toward the impending 
catastrophe. Right into the teeth of the most per- 
nicious civil war the world has known, marched this 
brave loyal old general to his fate. 

13 



The internecine strife resulting is still rife, 
father still fighting against son, brother against 
brother, in the perfect imitation of Cain. 

To celebrate this fraternal bloodshed, the good 
souls of Russia have burst into the Czar's treasured 
wine cellars and drowned their long parched palates 
until they reached unconsciousness. Then began 
the unspeakable atrocities upon the '^ Death Battal- 
ion*' of helpless women, originally formed to awaken 
the courage of their wavering brothers and hus- 
bands. The drunken soldiers were not sated with 
the shameful rape of their sisters, but after the re- 
pulsive act flung their victims into the dark flowing 
Neva. 

**Here you are women! Ha-ha-ha." Join the 
army! resounded their bestial laughter. 

Thus was celebrated the birth of the Bolshevik 
regime. 



14 



RUSSIA OF BYGONE DAYS AND THE RUSSIA 

OF TODAY. 

Russia is a land of eternal struggle. The year 
1910, during which I arrived in Russia, was almost 
as reactionary as the year 1919, during which I was 
forced to escape from the Bolshevik Oppression. But 
ten years ago, it was the Russian Bismarck, — Pre- 
mier Stolipyn, who crushed every liberal thought and 
movement with his iron hand. It was he who brought 
the 1905 uprising to such a tragic end. His notor- 
ious ** neck-lace'^ as one of the sarcastic Duma dele- 
gates described his gallows-rope — strangled every 
red throat in the Country. He was reactionary to 
the depths of his soul — a brutal but an honest man. 
Who knows, but perhaps his keen vision foresaw all 
that is now happening in Russia — the land he knew 
and loved so well. Yes, reaction was then at its 
zenith. Nevertheless, it was the proletarian revolt 
of 1905 that tore the veil from many an obscure cor- 
ner and exposed Russia in a new and entrancing light 
which aroused the curiosity of the world. 

Russia was always a fairy land. Many good 
souls in faraway countries have fancied that in Petro- 
grad or Moscow wolves and bears are leisurely 
prowling thru the streets at midday. But if this 
idea has been exaggerated in regard to the metro- 
polises, the legend contains a kernel of truth in the 
case of provincial villages where the above men- 
tioned visitors are not so rare. At the same time 



15 



Russia possessed the most excellent theatres, as 
Stainislawsky's Art Theatre in Moscow, and the 
Maryinsky Opera House, in Petrograd, with a bal- 
let the most perfect in the world. There are the 
great picture galleries, the *' Hermitage ^^ in Petro- 
grad and the TretiakoiT in Moscow. Indeed, at the 
same time that the bears and wolves roamed freely 
thru the streets of the villages, in the capitals, every 
cobbler and doorman was in reach of a telephone. 
Yes, Russia is a land of contrasts. In the village or 
hamlet where most homes were roofless, one could 
locate a villa or palace unrivalled in splendor any- 
where on the continent. Oh, so beautiful was this 
country! The golden domes of her innumerable 
Byzantine churches fairly gleamed throughout the 
land. And when on a holiday morning thousands 
of gigantic bells pealed their chimes thru the skies, 
it was almost incredible to fancy such divine har- 
mony wrought on this sinful sphere Then 

there is the diversity of the land. You can ride for 
days and weeks and see only plain steppes without 
tree or shrub — mere dreary stretches, such as the 
steppes of Ufa and Orenburg. Then behold the 
Caucasus; hundreds and hundreds of miles of moun- 
tains, wonderfully striking mountains, as the Kas- 
beck and the Elbrus — perhaps the most imposing in 
the world. Then the endless expanse of waters; 
lakes, rivers and seas. What can be more charming 
than the primitive banks of the Volga; especially 
the steep cliffs behind Nishny, whence the famous 
river pirate, Attaman-Stienka Razine, threw the 
Persian Princess into the deep. This river runs for 
thousands of miles through Russia— from the Ger- 

16 



man Border to the Urals and Caucasus. The seas — 
Black, Caspian, and Baltic, open up all parts of Asia 
and Europe. Then consider Crimea and the Ukraine 
an area equivalent to several European countries 
entirely covered with gardens of a'l fruits of the 
world. Then view Siberia — you can wander there 
for days and weeks, weeks and months and see noth- 
ing but woods, woods and woods. The famous 
Taiga. 

All these scenes I have visited myself during 
my sojourn of years in Russia, of times alone, of times 
in the company of American tourists. 

Now, her hospitality. Where in the world could 
foreigners receive so cordial and sincere a reception 
as in Russia? One arrives here without tongue, 
without friends, without a solitary acquaintance; 
and within a fortnight he has been already wel- 
comed into the best Russian homes. Naturally, one 
must possess a certain amount of education and re- 
finement. Education, in particular, was there con- 
sidered on a high plane. The person with educa- 
tion, with some linguistic ability, and in addition, 
of foreign birth, such a person was highly appre- 
ciated, and beloved in Russia. With the kindly as- 
sistance of his friends, his was open access to the 
highest social and official life. And the manner in 
which such education was there rewarded can scarce- 
ly be conceived in America. And of course such per- 
songes as ambassadors and consuls were reckoned 
among the first men of the land. 

Still more remarkable in hospitality to foreign- 
ers was the villages. One entered a peasant's hut 
and asked for a glass of water. He soon was invited 

17 



to the table, where after a few moments a jug of 
milk and a loaf of bread appeared. Forgetting his 
daily task the peasant started to question you about 
your country, family and business, and if it would 
grow dark, or begin to rain, you might be sure, to 
find shelter here. But don^t offer him any remun- 
eration, this would only insult him. 



18 



11 



RUSSIA, THE HOME OF MODERN MUSIC, 
LETTERS AND ART. 

Since the early eighties, Russia had also occu- 
pied one of the foremost ranks in the world of art. 
Grlinky^ Tschaikowsky, Rubenstein, fathers of Rus- 
sian classical music, not only founded, but erected 
the structure of a new epoch. They were the first to 
transcend the melodramatic Romanticism of the 
Italian and French composers and wave their magic 
wand all over the world. 

Europe and America suddenly saw upon the 
stage new un-puppet like characters who told of 
their human experiences and feelings, in their hu- 
manly musical language. From king to peasant, 
each lived and sang his own song, the first of his 
palaces, the last of his thatched cottages. The old 
fashioned shepherds who were wont to sing truly 
beautiful but angelically high melodies were left in 
the background. In a word, the great Russians 
created a vast human realism which has reigned to 
the present day and will, I think, reign as long as 
human souls are human. The Operas:. "Life for 
the Czar," by Glinky, "The Queen of Spades" 
and "Eugenie Onyegin," by Tschaikowsky, and 
"The Demon", by Rubenstein, have no peer in the 
musical world. Even their spiritual children and 
grand-children as Mussorgsky, Rymsky-Korsakoff, 
Rachmaninoff; Scriabin, and scores of others stand 
asunder from the horde. 

19 



The power of the Russian artist lies in his ex- 
traordinarily broad culture. No country has such 
educated artists as Russia. Commencing with the 
gigantic Poushikine, Tolstoi, Dostoyefsky, Turg- 
neiff, and concluding with the self-educated 
Grorky, Andrieff, Tchekhoff, Kuprine and Archi- 
basheff— all were products not of university 
but of universal learning. Some of them 
knew and controlled from four to eight lan- 
guages, as for instance Tolstoi and Turgenieff who 
hardly could tell which of the European tongues 
they knew best (and in the word ''knew^* I mean all 
it implies, speaking, writing, reading the entire lit- 
erature and understanding the psychology of their 
nations). For this reason we may read without won- 
der **War and Peace" by Tolstoi, where all intrica- 
cies of military strategy, natural history, geogra- 
phy, biology, romanticism, music and history are 
treated as by authorities specializing in each field. 
Where in the world can one find such deep psychol- 
ogical research as in Dostoyefsky 's romances? His 
'^ Brothers Karamasoff" and ''Crime and Punish- 
ment" do not have and, it appears to me, never will 
have any match. Russia has also world-renowned 
scholars as Podvitzotsky, Metchnikoff, Mendelieflf. 
Indeed, this is a land of contrasts. Hand in hand 
with eighty per cent, of illiterate population we find 
such an Herculean learning restricted to a few. 

The same is the case with Russian painters. 
Commencing with Bruloif, famous for his immortal 
painting, ''The Last Days of Pompeii", and conclud- 
ing with the contemporary Riepin whose "Ivan the 
Terrible," is internationally famous, all are incom- 

20 



parable in their learning, psychological analysis and 
technique. I do not mention here such original 
geniuses as Ivanoff, Vasnietzoff Sieroff and Wrubel. 



21 



r 



THE RUSSIA OF TODAY. 

Unfortunately, this is in the past. This is Rus- 
sia of bygone days— before the war and revolution. 
The Russia of today is entirely different — another 
Russia, without hospitality, without musicians, 
without writers, without painters. No, the last may 
be said to still exist, but they are of another species: 
I call them the **Red Painters,'^ for they recognize 
no other color than that of crimson blood. These are 
the Bolsheviki. Of this great country of endless 
riches, country of artists and thinkers, the Bolshe- 
viki have made a woebegone mad-house. Madmen 
have risen over the land, overwhelmed all those op- 
posing them and imprisoned them in dungeons. As 
to all demented, the color of red appeals to them and 
they redden the world around them. 

Tragedy of tragedies. Tragedy of madmen. Its 
stage managers have hidden it from the gaze of an 
outer audience. And most tragic of all, this scene 
of millions of souls weltering in blood is merely a 
rehearsal boding an even greater, grimmer spectacle 
to follow. Indeed, the bloodiest of pageants will 
surely follow unless a courageous public opinion 
arises to the cry of the moment and calls a halt to 
the tragic farce. And farce it is, like that of Edgar 
Allan Poe's, in which is depicted an uprising among 
the inmates of a lunatic asylum who bind their keep- 
ers and run the asylum to suit themselves. 

22 




Such a madhouse is Russia today. Under the 
open heavens these madmen wreak their lust. With 
the blood of millions they stain their hands and 
everything about them; cities, streets, homes, 
schools. The death cry of their victims sounds sweet 
to their ears for they spare none. They kill relent- 
lessly, incessantly — no matter who their victims are, 
Russians or foreigners. 



23 



THE PERSECUTION OF FOREIGNERS. 

The wholesale arrest of foreigners is due appar- 
ently to the aversion on the part of the Bolsheviki 
to permit the outside world to witness their maniac 
doings. Any foreigner is liable to suspicion and 
immediate arrest. Those capable of raising large 
funds may sometimes bribe their way to freedom. 
There are many today lingering in dungeons where 
their only sustenence is a bit of hope, a pitcher of 
water and a quarter of a pound of bread every 
other day. Then sometimes they mysteriously dis- 
appear. 

American citizens have also tasted bread in 
Russian jails. As soon as the news spread of our 
soldiers landing on the Murman coast a series of 
wholesale arrests of Americans began. 

The extraordinary Commission, a sort of mediae- 
val inquisition, gathered in all discoverable Ameri- 
cR.ns and Frenchmen. Some have been able to buy 
their ^vay to freedom at a price of from ten thousand 
to one hundred thousanri x"ub]es. Many others who 
unfortunately cannot afford to pay such big sums 
are still festering in underground cells, awaiting 
their release here or in the world eternal. Any 
moment our American brethren may be sent to 
Cronstadt to be shot, victims of Bolshevik's wild 
mania. 

Hear them. Hear them cry: America help! 

24 



Nor did I escape the unfortunate fate of these 
foreigners caught in their grasp. On the thirteenth 
of November, 1918, I was compelled to visit on busi- 
ness the ''Northern Commune" as the old city of 
Peter the Great is now called. During the day I had 
a premonition that something evil would befall me, 
for at every step I made thru the city I perceived 
two suspicious characters spying on me from a dis- 
tance. For this reason I hid all my money and 
jewelry that evening with special precaution, for I 
was ready for everything. 

Indeed, about two o'clock that night a power- 
ful knock thundered at my door. ''Who is there?'' 
I asked. "The Extraordinary Commission" came 
in reply. I was forced to open. Half an hour later 
I was at the late Municipal Headquarters, now occu- 
pied by the "Extraordinary Commission". 

Upon my query for the reason of my arrest, I 
was given the cold reply, "As American officer and 
spy." They were all aware that I was neither. But 
what could I do? 

Six and a half v/eeks I spent in an underground 
dungeon, subsisting on two ounces of bread and a 
can of water a day. The sword constantly hung over 
my head. Each day saw some of my fellow- prisoners 
spirited away — and they were never seen again. 

Nevertheless, through the neverfailing medium 
of a considerable amount of money, I managed to 
buy my freedom. The end of December found me in 
Stockholm. Fancy my elation when I did find my- 
self able to breathe freely without the fear of death. 
Also I could eat as much as I wished. Yet my joy 
was sadly incomplete, for far, far, in that cold lane' 

25 



of Russia, surrounded by the red maniacs, were left 
my wife and my adorable four-year-old boy George. 
Only God Almighty knows what has befallen them 
in the long months since last I saw them. Are they 
even Alive? 

Oh, if I could only bring Bolshevism home to 
you as it has been brought home to me. It is so hard 
for those in civilized countries to picture it even in a 
general way. Could you imagine New York in ruins, 
its great white way littered with dead horses; all 
restaurants, gilded lobster palaces, theatres closed? 
This description may seem exaggerated to some of 
you, but I have seen this state of affairs in Petro- 
grad — the New York of Russia — and let me tell you 
that it was really very tragic. 

Five-six years ago Petrograd was one of the 
liveliest cities in Europe. Her streets were bustling 
with activity. Her homes, shops, theatres, and res- 
taurants were brilliant with life, gaiety and excite- 
ment. Her people were happy in the day^s work 
and play. 

Today this great metropolis is barren as a 
desert. There is no trace of her former glory. Her 
restaurants and theatres are the grimy barracks of 
a lunatic army. Instead of the sweet strains of 
music are heard the roar of cannon and the staccato 
barks of machine guns. People are impoverished 
and hungry. Children die before their birth or 
afterwards on their mothers' fallen bosoms. Not 
only do people drop from exhaustion but even the 
machines, factories and traffic halt for lack of 
energy. People are too busy cutting throats to cut 
wood for fires. 

26 



Nevsky Prospect, once the Fifth Avenue of 
Petrograd, whose fair pedestrians compared with 
the fairest on the Avenue de T Opera, or Picadily, 
whose granite pavements were models of cleanliness, 
is no more. Now these walks are littered with rub- 
bish, and commonest frequenters are dead horses, 
whose pestilential odors are rife with diseases — 
horses which disappear at night in a mysterious 
manner, that is mysterious to him who has not felt 
hunger. 

I have seen the famished figures creep forth at 
night, knife in hand, to prey on this God-Sent car- 
rion. Providence is kind and illumination is absent; 
no one will interfere. He who is first upon the scene 
claims the choicest morsel, and what cares he if its 
nourishment is infectious? Or if he even must cross 
daggers for his fatal morsel? 

I have seen mothers and daughters creeping 
forth sometimes in twilight to appease their hunger 
on raw horse flesh. My wife saw one such sight that 
prostrated her. When I finally revived her, the 
horse and its famished guests had entirely disap- 
peared — it all happened in a few minutes. 



27 



CATEGORIES. 

Not all classes have to fight over carrion; there 
are some people who are thriving comparatively 
well. These are the fortunate those of the ** first 
category". The population in Russia is divided by 
the Bolsheviki into four categories. 

The first category is made up of those who are 
doing hard work for the Grovernment. Soldiers are 
included in this class and workers in G-overnment 
factories. The Bolshevist Government tries to take 
good care of its army, and in great measure succeeds. 
Members of the first category are allowed half a 
pound of bread a day, and they can buy it at the 
Soviet shops at a comparatively reasonable rate. 
The second category consist of clerical workers, ser- 
vants and the like whether in the employ of the Gov- 
ernment or of private persons. Each member of this 
class is allowed a quarter of a pound of bread a day, 
at the same price. 

The third class is made up of such people as the 
widows of officers and members of the nobility who 
are living on pensions or private incomes. The 
widow of a General, for example, gets a pension of 
1000 rubles a month, but that is only worth about two 
dollars actual purchasing power in Russia now. 
These people are allowed sometimes as often as once 
a week, but rarely with such frequency either one 
eighth or one-sixteenth of a pound of bread, a pound 
or half pound of potatoes. 

The fourth category consists of the proprietors 
of little shops and factories. Their weekly food al- 

28 



lowance is two herrings — no bread or vegetables at 
all.Their tools have been taken from them, they have 
no materials to work with, but, if they have employed 
people, they must continue paying their wages. The 
last two classes have no rights, whatever; in Mos- 
cow they cannot even ride in the street cars. 

All the food that few fortunates get in addition 
to their allowance must be purchased at such exor- 
bitant prices that can hardly be conceived in a coun- 
try where people cry about the H. C. of L. when bread 
costs only 9c a pound. 

Here are some quotations current in Petrograd: 

Rubles. 

Bread, black, corn, per pound 200 to 300 

Potatoes, unwashed, per pound 60 to 100 

Butter, or fat, per pound 500 to 800 

Apples, each 50 to 100 

Horse meat, per pound 250 to 400 

If you imagine that these articles of food can be 
bought in the open market, you are mistaken. Only 
in silent by-streets under the hidden cloak can they 
be bought, and woe to the buyer if caught in the act 
^y the Red Guard. If said authority merely confis- 
cates the food, the buyer can be happy, for he might 
have been led off to a place of repentence for a long 
period of meditation. 

A familiar scene is as follows: You are passing 
the market place, when a moderately intelligent 
looking being approaches you and confidentially 
hints of a small loaf hid under his coat. Hungrilly 
you halt him and clinch the bargain. A sad looking 
civilian comes out from behind, a shrill whistle and 
suddenly about you rise, as from under the ground, 

29 



a score of Red Guards ready to shoot you at the least 
motion. In a second you are standing before the 
Soviet Sommissar. 

Folk-kitchens have replaced the restaurants. 
As private purchase of food is forbidden, citi- 
zens are compelled to resort to the public bread line, 
often waiting for hours w^ith their meal tickets for 
their day ration of a slice of bread. 

The public kitchen affords a dish of hot water 
and dirty cabbage, potato or strong smelling fish for 
more or less a reasonable price. It is indeed a pleas- 
ure to enjoy this after waiting in line thru zero 
weather for five, or six hours in company with thieves 
and beggars. But to have the privilege of eating 
in these kitchens, one must belong to the first two 
categories. 



30 ] 



SOVIETS. 

In Petrograd, Moscow, Kiev, and other big 
cities councils — or Soviets — were formed by these 
new rulers of all Russia. These councils were assem- 
blies, or parliaments, comprised of delegates sup- 
posedly chosen by soldiers, workingmen, and peas- 
ants to represent them. These delegates were sent 
from the smaller localities to act in a higher center, 
and so on. 

The peasants were very conscientious in their 
election of representatives. They chose spokesmen 
of undoubted character, as a rule, to champion the 
needs of the rural electorate with honest vigor. But 
such spokesmen no sooner arrived at the higher cen- 
ter than they were submitted to scrutiny by the pre- 
siding officer of the soviet with a view of ascertaining 
their sympathies toward Bolshevism. Woe betide 
them if the examination indicated a lack of sym- 
pathy, for the lot of the so-called counter-revolution- 
ist, or ** enemy of the people, ^^ is unenviable. 

The councils were in this manner stuffed to the 
brim with honest-to-goodness Bolsheviks whose per- 
sonal interest gained in precedence during their 
*' legislation,'' which was ostensibly intended to pro- 
mote the welfare of the populace. 

Lenine's first decree compelled all Russian 
landowners to surrender their possessions to the 
rightful rulers of the soil — the peasants. 

31 



When this transfer of land rights had been con- 
summated, the peasants, naturally, awaited the be- 
stowal of these lands upon them by the Soviets. Had 
not this property been confiscated in their name? In- 
deed yes; but, in spite of this fact, the Soviets did 
not revert these lands to the peasants gratis. 

For an exorbitant price that almost doubled 
that asked for by the former landholders the Soviets 
offered this confiscated property to the peasants — 
poor deluded ''rightful rulers of the soil!" Thus 
arose the first clash between the peasants and their 
soviet ''representatives." 

The peasant now realized that he had been 
swindled and began to protest. But of what avail 
was the plaint of a common boor against an array of 
bayonets? 

The moujik was forced to acquiesce meekly in 
this fiasco, for he was in dire need of soil, in need of 
bread. True, not all of the bread he produced be- 
longed to him. For while he could toil from sunrise 
to sunset on his soil, its growth belonged to the com- 
munistic soviet. The laboring food-grower could 
consume only his one pound of bread per diem; the 
distribution of the rest was in the hands of the soviet 
agent. This procedure proved to be indigestible for 
the rustic understanding. 

The difficulties of crop-raising in the recent sea- 
son have been enormous. In addition to the extor- 
tionate cost of land, the peasant found himself con- 
fronted with the lack of tools. Russia had failed 
in the last few years to promote the agricultural im- 
plement industry; import has been impossible; and 
the peasant resorted perforce to primitive methods. 

32 



I know cases where farmers actually fashioned 
plowshares from wood and saplings. Since oxen and 
horses had been confiscated, it was only natural to 
span wife and daughter in the yoke (the son was 
probably killed in the war.) The minor implements 
were so rare that fifteen copeck (7^2 cents) reap- 
ing hooks were sold for 200-250 rubles, scythes for 
750-1250 rubles, each, and purchase of these was pos- 
sible only under duress. 

The proverbial patience of the moujik was con- 
sequently strained to the bursting point — and fin- 
ally it burst! Then ensued a life-and-death strug- 
gle between peasant and soviet. 

The Russian people have from time immemorial 
been accustomed to seek succor beneath the bene- 
volent shadow of the Church. The clergy, mostly 
descended from rustic ancestry, now extended com- 
fort to their suffering parishes and counseled them 
to evade these unjust ''laws" of the Soviets, to con- 
ceal their produce under ground, in the roof -thatch- 
ing, etc. Soon the Soviets became aware of this un- 
ion between Church and peasant, and a terrible op- 
pression of the priests resulted. 

In the province of Kaluga, where my estate was 
located, a tragic episode occurred. The peasants, 
indignant at the exploitation of the soviet, organ- 
ized an armed force, under the leadership of some 
abbots whose monastery was the rendezvous for de- 
fense. The local soviet, apprised of this ''uprising," 
sent a band of several hundred armed Bolsheviki to 
overwhelm the monastery, but the attempt was un- 
successful. A hurry call for aid was sent to Mos- 
cow, one hundred miles away, and immediately the 

33 



higher soviet furnished an expedition of an entire 
regiment of Lettish mercenaries, accompanied by 
four armored cars and supply trains. These attack- 
ed the monastery at midnight, and before noon of 
the next day reduced the monastery, village, and en- 
tire surroundings to a heap of ashes. The few re- 
maining monks were hung upon a few remaining 
door-posts. Scarcely anything was left undestroy- 
ed— even the produce for which this struggle was 
fought. For what use was bread when disobedience 
to Bolshevism was in question? 

After this victory of Peremishl, as the village 
was called, a reign of terror was instituted against 
Church and clergy over the land. 

The first victim was the kindly liberal sage 
Bishop Theophane, of the Caluga Province. This 
pious theologian, whose radical writings are renown- 
ed beyond the boundaries of his land, came from a 
noble lineage and was endowed with a great measure 
of academic and juridical learning. Being of a pro- 
foundly liberal temperament, he was persona non 
grata in the Czar's regime. Prior to the February 
revolution he had been ordered before the court on 
a charge of defending a deacon who in drunkenness 
committed an act of lese-majeste — having called the 
Czar a dunce-head. It was said that the Bishop 
claimed that his deacon had spoken in drunkenness 
what many thought in sobriety. 

Such a figure of outspoken liberal tendencies 
was a victim of Lenine-Trotsky oppression. In the 
midst of night agents broke into the bishopric to 
search the possessions of the sleeping Churchman, 
to drag him to the soviet. His horses and carriage 

34 



were confiscated, his cow sequestered. The old man 
w^as a vegetarian — yet they left him not even the 
least nourishing edible. The soviet made his life 
impossible. Before I left Russia I heard a report 
that he had been mysteriously murdered. 

Bishop Theophane is only one of Russia's cler- 
ical martyrs. Brutally have the sons of the 
Church been massacred and the monasteries despoil- 
ed. The treasures of ages have been shamefully 
torn from sacred relics and shared as booty by Bol- 
shevic pilferers. Holy places have been transform- 
ed into stenching barracks; learned, dignified the- 
ologians have been thru.st by means of blows and 
threats into the uniform of soviet soldiers. And the 
righteousness of Christ has departed from Russia 
forever? That is for the world to answer. 

Who com^prise the Soviets, the actual rulers of 
the country? Mostly illiterate persons, unable to 
sign their names, and of high criminal pedigree. 
Their life creed was Isarned in prison and their 
training in the ways of robbery and murder. 

When that great political charlatan Kerensky 
bethought himself to open the jails, a great many 
criminals were released who were clever enough to 
ally themselves with the Socialistic party. They 
were received with open arms. The impress of their 
chains on ankle and wrist were marks of honor. 

But during the first Provisional Government, at 
the head of which stood such idealists as those of the 
Prince Lvofi Cabinet, these criminals had little op- 
portunity to share in the government. 

Only after October 21, 1917, when Lenine and 
Trotsky usurped power, these ex-murderers obtain- 

35 



ed their first chance to assert themselves. From the 
street-corner meetings of the Bolsheviki these ruf- 
fians learned to prate from Karl Marx. The reign 
of terror began with the imprisonment of the capital- 
ist first, and then of any one else suspected of hav- 
ing property. Every house and club was raided. 
Twice was my purse the victim of socialization. 

I remember one midnight raid upon our club. 
The doors were burst open. *'In the name of the 
Revolution!" entered a host of Red Guards. They 
were specialists in their craft. They left not an ar- 
ticle of value on the premises. They knew all the 
hiding-places. 

This all occurs under the guise of authority. 
Factories, homes, shops, are daily confiscated — or 
** socialized" — under these self -same mandates. 

In the midday a commissar enters your office 
and tells you that your office is to be surrendered to 
the Grovernment. You do not protest, for if you do 
you are condemned as a counter-revolutionist. Un- 
til the last autumn the commissars were not so harsh 
in the case of your dwelling. They merely confiscat- 
ed your rentals and luxuries, but allowed you to oc- 
cupy your premises and pay rent to the soviet for 
your own property. But for the last few months, 
since they started their system of ** equal distribu- 
tion, "you are not allowed to hold a room for yourself, 
but you are forced to quarter together with Red 
Gruard families or homeless tramps. But if the Gov- 
ernment needs your premises for their purposes you 
must vacate within twenty-four hours. 

*' Enough for the rich, now let the poor be su- 
preme" is the new watchword. 

36 



A WEEK FOR THE POOR. 

Zinovieff, the G-overnor of Petrograd, originat- 
ed the beautiful idea of a Week of the Poor, a ''Ne- 
dielia Biednoty," consisting of hundreds of robber 
bands which daily search all residences equipped 
with commissars' mandates, in order to take away 
what they can. If one has a new and old overcoat, 
one is left the old overcoat. If one has two pairs of 
old and three pairs of new underwear, one is left two 
pairs of old underwear. If one has two blankets, the 
better one is taken. 

What such robbery means to the poor Russians 
can be understood from the following price scale: 

Rubles. 

Shoes, per pair 3,000-6,000 

Overcoat 10,000-20,000 

Suit 15,000-25,000 

Socks, per pair 300- 600 

Blankets 10,000-20,000 

Now the brutality with which this hor- 
rible decree has been executed can scarcely be 
mentioned before a civilized public. Neverthe- 
less, 1 cannot restrain myself from relating at least 
one tragic episode of the thousands occurred, and as 
I have reason to relieve, are still very common in the 
Bolshevik republic 

37 



As both the victim herself, a highly refined arid 
cultured girl of twenty- one, and her aged aristocra- 
tic parents were very intimate friends of my family, 
I was most accurately informed about the horrible 
incident. It came to pass just a few days previously 
to my arrest, and the appalling details communicated 
to me by the unfortunate parents have added a great 
deal to my tortures during the endless weeks of 
imprisonment. 

The christian name of this victim was Vera, her 
second name, for obvious reasons, I will change into 
Goremikin, and under this name will I try to narrate 
the horrible story. 



38 



i 



VERA'S CASE. 

The threat of such a decree had long hung over 
Russia, driving dire dread into the souls of all un- 
fortunately called ''bourgeois/' The precise mean- 
ing of this new Soviet promulgation was clear exact- 
ly to none; the only thing certain was that this in- 
volved new oppression, new persecution. And hearts 
shuddered. 

Rumor had it that Lenine himself did not con- 
sent to this declaration and that in his opinion it was 
indeed nearly time to call a halt, for everything 
that could be done to the hated capitalistic class had 
been done, and that an excess of vengeance would 
bring harm rather than good. For that reason, he 
was disinclined to permit this orgy to occur in Mos- 
cow, his capital. And if Lenine himself disapproved 
of a new step of persecution, this was certainly a 
sign of its intolerability. But the self-appointed 
rulers of the other provinces, such as ZinoviefF in 
Petrograd and Vitolin in Kaluga, calculated that 
Bolshevism had attained such a stage that caution 
was no longer necessary. Therefore Zinovieff gave 
the first signal in Petrograd, and his action was fol- 
lowed in the majority of minor provinces through- 
out the country. Then began the carousal! 

The alleged motive for the occasion was to pro- 
vide warm blankets and warm clothing for paupers 
and the army. 

39 



Proletarian houses were to be exempted from 
search. Every raid was to be authorized officially. 
A special mandate was to be presented by every Red 
Gruard before entering the premises to be investi- 
gated. The search must be made without dispatch 
and without brutality. No articles, not specifically 
mentioned in the mandate, were to be touched. 

So stated the published decree. But its perfor- 
mance was of a different nature. Especially in the 
case of my friends, the Goremikins was this mani- 
festo accorded a grim interpretation. 

One afternoon, when Vera had returned from 
school and had hastened to greet her sick moth- 
er confined in a remote chamber, a sharp ring was 
heard at the door. Save mother and daughter, no- 
body was home. Old Dr. G-oremikin had gone with 
Boris, their invalid son, to one of the hospitals where 
the physician was employed. Vera went to the door 
herself. 

She thought it must be one of the patients 
calling, and therefore opened the portals without 
hesitation. Instead into the house walked two indi- 
viduals of tall stature, with curled mustaches — au- 
thentic types of the former Czarist gendarmes. They 
were attired in ordinary Red Guard uniforms, but 
of superior material. Both were not much over 
twenty and far from ungainly. One of them, with a 
light gash over his brow, apparently the elder, cour- 
teously presented a document to Vera with the polite 
excuse: 

''You appear to be the mistress of this resid- 
ence. Therefore, will you please read this order? 
We are from the Committee on Poverty./' 

40 



The paper bore instruction to the effect that its 
bearers were empowered by authoritative decree 
to rummage through all w^ardrobe closets and cab- 
inets and to confiscate for the need and use of the 
Soviet Republic what articles were found to be su- 
perfluous for the resident family. 

Vera was young and confident. Therefore, she 
could not realize accurately the possible outcome 
of such instructions. She merely replied that she 
would inquire of her mother who was lying sick in 
her chamber. The officials exchanged glances fur- 
tively, and the scarred one, with a smirk, offered to 
escort her for, according to law, immediately upon 
presentation of the warrant, these premises were in 
lawful control. So Vera was forced to acquiesce. 

The Groremikin house was built on the corridor 
or hotel plan in the form of an L; that is, there was 
a long corridor which turned to the right leading 
past the eleven rooms of the apartment. The ailing 
Madame Goremikin was sleeping in the last chamber 
at the toe of the L-foot. To reach her, it was neces- 
sary to pass all eleven doors looking into the nar- 
row corridor. Elisavetha Dmitrovna, Vera's mother, 
who had become accustomed of late to all sorts of 
trouble was not astounded by this new disturbance. 
She told her daughter to show the *' gentlemen** all 
their clothing closets. The official insisted at first, that 
Vera open the large old chest in the sick chamber. 
She complied. But other than summer frocks and 
lingerie, there was nothing. As they did not touch 
a single vestment, the women's fears were somewhat 
allayed. When the intruders had finished their 
search the younger asked Miss Goremikin. 

41 



**How many persons are in your house/' 
**Four, Father, mother, brother and 1.'* 
Where are the others?'' 

''In the Troyitsky Hospital,'' the mother re- 
sponded, *'my husband is the chief surgeon there." 

''Ah!" said the questioner, and he glanced 
significantly at his colleague. The other apparent- 
ly comprehended, for a satisfied grin spread over 
his features. But his wink and smile were unno- 
ticed by the women. Perhaps, if they had observed 
it, they might have been more cautious in their re- 
plies. The elder official hastily exclaimed: 

"Well, why are we dilly-dallying? We must 
see the other rooms. We've plenty to do today. Ex- 
cuse us, kindly, for this interruption. Believe me, 
it is not in our power to do otherwise. We are com- 
pelled to make this search." 

These last words of apology set the misgivings 
of the women entirely to rest. Only when they de- 
parted from the invalid's room and locked the door 
from the outer side, as a "legal precaution," was 
Vera for a moment uneasy. But the feigned 
affability of their tones quickly soothed her into a 
delusion of safety. 

"We shall commence with the room nearest the 
entrance," declared the elder official. "Whose is it, 
barishnia." 

"Mine," te girl informed him innocently. 

The long row of white doors flitted past them 
until they arrived at their destination. As they en- 
tered, the younger man quickly turned the key in 
the door, again as a "legal precaution." 

42 



Vera*s boudoir was done entirely in white. 
The walls were papered white, and the ceiling 
calcimined in white. The furniture was white - 
painted and the bed of a spotless white. Even the 
mouldings of the portraits were white. All this in 
addition to the white canopy which hung from the 
ceiling over the white bed imparted to the room an 
air of remarkable cleanliness. 

The two inquisitors, as they passed the thresh- 
hold of this immaculate bed-chamber, for a moment 
appeared abashed. Perhaps in the depths of their 
souls throbbed a nerve of their former consciences. 
Perhaps in this very moment their thoughts flashed 
back to their young, guiltless sisters, somewhere in 
a remote village from which, undoubtedly, the two 
men came. Who knows? But this human impulse 
swayed them only a brief second before an animal 
gleam flickered in their eyes as they proceeded to 
their appointed task. The elder ordered the girl 
to open the white wardrobe which was standing be- 
tween the bed and the window. Here, as in Madame 
Goremikin^s room they could discover nought else 
but flimsy blouses, corsets, and mysterious maidenly 
knick-knacks of airy cambric, linen, and silk. The 
same findings resulted from the carved chest stand- 
ing opposite. The younger of the pair, guarding the 
door, observed a gilded powder-case on Vera's toilet 
dresser, which he stealthily slipped into this pocket. 
Neither was the same fate avoided by the gold min- 
iature suspended over the dresser mirror. But no 
other extraordinary dexterity was as yet shown by 
the intruders. It almost seemed as if they were 
leisurely engaged on mere preliminaries, and that 

43 



their chief object was still ahead of them. And in 
fact, they soon diverted themselves to the main task. 
The older critically studied the silk pique cover 
spread over the bed and felt its inner contents with 
his hand. He was on the point of lifting the cover- 
let, reconsidered and requested Vera to do so. 

Vera neared her bed with downcast head. Tears 
sprang into her eyes. Until now none had ever dar- 
ed to approach her virgin couch. None had ever 
seen it in any but orderly array. And now she must 
lift the white coverlet before an impudent mascu- 
line gaze. But what else could she do? Protests 
would not avail in this instance. She was too ob- 
viously entirely in their power. Why, why had she 
not at least her mother with her? Suddenly a ter- 
rible thought struck her dumb. Why had they clos- 
ed her mother's door from the outer side? They must 
have had some dreadful aim in view. But what? 
Vera's mind refused to go further. 

She was now standing between the uncovered 
bed and the elder official. Her tender full figure was 
leaning against the silvered posts, her hand resting 
on the top cushion. Slowly she raised her tearful 
pleading eyes to the two ransackers. Only an in- 
solent suspicious smile, no spark of human feeling, 
was the answer. The girl was beginning to re- 
move the cushions, fresh and soft as herself. But 
the official did not permit her. 

''Don't bother, barishnia, the cushions can re- 
main. We wish only to examine the warm blan- 
kets." 

From Vera's heart a heavy stone seemed to be 
lifted. She would not have to reveal her virgin bed 

44 



I 



after all before the gaze of these insolent men. She 
lifted a corner of her coverlet very slightly. 

**You see, sirs, under this pique spread, there is 
a single warm satin cover, only one.^' 

The older searcher bent to touch the cover with 
his fingers, and then with a sudden dash of lightning 
speed he clasped Vera around the waist and was 
showering her with sensuous smacks. 

For a moment Vera was breathless. The kisses 
had not only sealed her lips but had even halted her 
life-energy. She had never- been embraced like this 
by a stranger before. But Vera was a daughter of 
the Goremikin family, with whom courage and self- 
reliance are strongly characteristic. She did not yell 
or scream for her mother as another girl in her place 
might have done. She was aware that her invalid 
mother was confined in the eleventh chamber on the 
other corridor and could not hear her, and even if 
she could have heard, would have been unable to 
aid — the rascals had locked her in securely enough. 
Therefore, as soon as she recovered from her first 
bewilderment, she hurled the weight of her body 
against her assailant, and the unwelcome lover stag- 
gered back to the end of the room. At the same mo- 
ment, the other brute sprang to her and without a 
word began thrusting her onto the bed. Then the 
repulsed one returned and with a snarl flung him- 
self upon his rival. But the younger did not lose 
himself. Without releasing his victim from his 
mighty grasp, he cried to his comrade: 

**Get out, you greedy dog! Why should you al- 
ways get the first snack? Weren't you first yester- 
day at the Sokoloffs? And that time at the Mur 

45 



aviovffs? No, you watch the door this time and let 
me be first!'' 

The other, growling fiercely, assented to his 
opponent's argument. 

The girl, now recovering her consciousness, 
endeavored to free herself from this second brutal 
attack, but the moujik's grip w^as strong as iron. 
She couldn't so much as turn an inch. When 
she realized that resistance was in vain, she humbled 
her pride and began pleading. 

'^What will you gain by making such a helpless 
being as myself unhappy? I have an old father who 
can hardly bear himself up on his feet. And my 
mother you have already seen. What you wish to 
do will surely bring them into the grave. You do 
not look like professional murderers. On your faces 
I see a noble spirit. You must have mothers and 
sisters. Oh, let me be, and I will give you all the 
jewelry still left to me." 

And with her free hand she tore a golden cross 
hung by a platinum chain from her neck, placing it 
on the shoulder of her aggressor. He seized it rav- 
enously, but hugged her maiden bosom closer to his 
rough breast. His heart was untouched. Vera 
begged perseveringly: 

'*0n that arm you are crushing so painfully I 
have a platinum watch set with diamonds. Take it, 
but please let me be free." 

The other man approached and unlocked the 
platinum bracelet, but Vera was not released. Then 
she was obsessed with raging fury. With her free 
hand she pinched and scratched the visage of her 
torturer. Her sharp teeth sank into his thick 
shoulder. In a wild outburst, she screamed; 

46 



^'Murder! Rape! Robbery! help! Help! 
Mother! Father!^' 

But none heard her. None could help her. The 
enraged brute, intoxicated by feminine proximity 
and distressed by the sharp pain in his face and 
shoulders, finally in a blind madness began to rend 
her clothes to pieces, and at her first least struggle 
he struck her mercilessly with his clenched fists. 
The brute! — ._ 

Footsteps approached the hall door. A clumsy 
clatter of keys, and the old Dr. Goremikin 
entered the ante-room. A press on the electric but- 
ton, and there was light. To the left stood Vera^s 
door ajar. But within was darkness and the phy- 
sician paid no attention. He hurried through the 
long corridor to his wife's chamber. But surprise 
spread over his features as he found the door firmly 
locked. 

*'Liza,'' he shouted, ''why did you lock yourself 
in^'' 

And a weak voice replied: 

'Oh, Leo, open the door from your side. Come in 
quickly. Where is Vera?" 

The old doctor saw quickly that the key was 
inserted from the outer side. He turned it and in 
an instant he was beside his wife. 

"What did you say about Vera?" he cried in 
terror. "Where is she?" 

The old mother stammered in confusion. 

"Two men were here — from the Committee on 
Poverty — Vera was with them. Run to her room." 

"But Verotchka's room is dark!" exclaimed her 
husband. 

47 



**Dark?'' echoed the mother insanely. In her 
nightrobe she sprang bare-footed to the floor and 
with a desperate effort she ran through the corridor, 
followed by her aged husband. Her motherly in- 
stinct forebode evil of what she would find in her 
daughter's room and she strained madly to be first 
there. And as soon as she lighted the chamber, all 
was clear to her. 

Vera was prone in unconsciousness. Her splen- 
did rosy figure, erstwhile so saintly in its purity, was 
now violently besmirched. Cpvered with bruises 
and blood-stains, she lay motionless on her bed, de- 
flowered. 

Her two assailants, sated and with pockets 
snugly filled, had long absconded. In the room now 
reigned an ominous stillness. The air was filled with 
a heavy breathing and perspiration, but not a sound 
floated in from anywhere. Even the girPs alarm 
clock had been carried away with the other trinkets. 

Most remarkable of all, the poor mother did 
not lose her presence of mind. She hastily closed 
the door. 

**Wait, wait a while!" she cried to her husband, 
while she carefully spread a cover over the deflora- 
tion of her daughter. Only when she had gathered 
up the tattered remains of Vera's apparel from the 
floor, and had thrust them under the couch, did she 
admit the distracted father into the scene of the 
tragedy. 

Dr. Groremikin was a veteran practitioner. 
His eyes had seen many happenings in the course 
of his lifetime, especially during the last few years 

48 



of Russia's ruin. With drooping head he advanced 
toward his only daughter and felt her pulse. His 
face was expressionless. When finally he placed 
his ear to the girl's breast, he pronounced to his wife: 
**She still lives." But no sign of joy was vis- 
ible in his rigid countenance. He merely added a 
further instruction, *'See that Boris knows nothing. 
This would kill him entirely. An accident at school 
—that's all." 



^9 



SCHOOLS AND TEACHERS. 

Things are going very badly with professional 
people in Russia. The plight of the public school 
teachers is sad indeed, and the situation in regard to 
the schools is very curious. I know a great deal 
about this at first hand because two of my wife's 
sisters are teachers and I have friends who are 
teachers, some of the teachers who were killed on the 
day when the Constituent Assembly was called were 
women whom I knew. On that morning some teach- 
ers went on the Petrograd streets with banners ap- 
plauding the Constituent Assembly, and they were 
shot at from the roofs and forty were killed. 

The schools are suffering because they have no 
paper, no ink, none of the materials needed — most 
of all, no books. The lack cf books is due to more 
than one cause. When the Bolsheviki started to 
change everything, they decided that they would 
change the Russian alphabet and grammar and 
make them easier. So they first took away three of 
the thirty-six characters in the alphabet. Two of 
those were useless enough, but the elimination of the 
third one, the ''i,'' causes a good deal of confusion. 
Then they made ** simplifications'' in the grammar 
and spelling, and they made a rule that no one 
should publish books written according to the old 
ways. But they couldn't get books printed the new 
way. All the teachers had was a sheet of paper with 
the new Bolshevist grammar and spelling rules; so 
everything was at a standstill. 



50 



They decreed that all teachers should have a 
two months' course in learning the new rules; but 
then the teachers said, ''What about the children? 
Shall we require them to use the new methods when 
we haven't any books'" Then it was decided that 
for the first year the children might use the old 
grammar and spelling while they were trying to 
learn the new, so now things are every which way, 
as you can imagine. Otherwise I think the schools 
would probably be better than they were under the 
Czar. The public schools were very poor then. 

The real plight of the teachers, however, is not 
concerned with books, but v/ith food. A public 
school teacher gets a salary of five thousand rubles 
($40-$50) a month and belongs to the second cate- 
gory in the population. She works from nine in the 
morning until three to five in the afternoon, and she 
can't live on a quarter of a pound of bread and per- 
haps a few potatoes. If a teacher is to be sufficiently 
nourished to go on with her work, she must have 
more food and it will cost her on an average of about 
1,500 rubles a day. Many of these young women, too, 
are trying to support their mothers or other relatives. 
I know one very lovely young teacher, a member 
of a family to which Lermontov, the poet, belonged, 
who is trying to keep herself, her old mother, and 
a sick sister alive on her scanty salary. In the 
school where she is there were one hundred and ten 
teachers last year; now there are sixty. And I think 
most of those who are gone literally starved . to 
death; the rest went on the streets. 

A touch of irony in the teacher's situation lies 
in the fact that the Bolsheviki do try to keep the 

51 



school-children well fed, and that the teachers, who 
are often literally starving themselves, must dole 
out food to the children each day! 

But the instruction of about an hundred pupils 
in the unheated class-rooms does not entirely satis 
fy the greedy Soviet employer; further and still hea- 
vier tasks are forced upon the famished teacher. 
Home work. 

You all have undoubtedly heard about 
COMPULSORY LABOR. But its sinister meaning 
can be clear only to an eye-witness. Imagine your 
wives or your daughters, after a hard day's work at 
the office, shops, factory or school, to begin in the 
evenings in a half-starving state, another couple 
hours of still harder toil. . This is the case, to a much 
greater degree, with the Russian school-dame. 

The Bolshevik municipality tries to keep her 
cities, gardens and barracks more or less clean, but 
is loath to hire special people for this purpose. 
Therefore you can often see the bent backs of the 
aged men (the young are all driven to the fighting 
lines), mingled with the frail, emaciated figures of 
young women, engaged in sweeping the streets, 
shoveling snow from the sidewalks or washing the 
filthy floors of the stenching barracks under the 
rigid supervision of red brutes. 

One winter evening, when I called on my friend, 
a young school teacher, I found her on the street, in 
company of a number of other gentlewomen, shovel 
in hand, bent upon the task of heaping masses of ac- 
cumulated snow into one huge pile, while a red guard 
giant, with a cigarette in his mouth, cried out his rig- 
orous orders: 

52 



*' Lively there, lively, you cursed bourgeoise! 
Been idle enough — now work!" And the weak wo- 
men kept on working, not daring to lift even their 
heads for a moment. The frost was nipping faces 
pitilessly, paralyzing hands and feet. One could 
have seen how the last atoms of strength was de- 
parting from these women. They could not even 
stand erect. But the red foreman went on shout- 
ing: '* Hurry up! Quicker now!" 

I ran to my friend and wrenched the shovel from 
her numbed grasp. *'No, no!" she protested, upturn- 
ing a wearied face on which tears and perspiration 
had frozen bead-like. ''My time is yet not due," and 
with these words she fell prone upon the snow. She 
was still conscious but completely exhausted. The 
two hours of exposure in the penetrating frost and 
the untold days of hunger had exhausted her entire 
strength. I had to lift her in my arms and to carry 
her to her apartment. 



53 



UNIVERSITIES AND TECHNICAL 
INSTITUTIONS. 

If the conditions in Russian elementary and 
secondary schools are peculiar, those of the univer- 
sities and technical institutions are even stranger. 
In the first place, most of the colleges and higher 
technical schools are closed. The two surviving in- 
stitutions in Petrograd and Moscow are merely half 
functioning and have become — I know not what. 

It must not be forgotten that in former years 
the Russian schools of higher learning were of pre- 
mier rank. It was more difficult for one to enter a 
Russian university or technical school than presum- 
ably for a Bolshevik to gain access to the heavenly 
kingdom. The privilege of university study was 
possessed only by certain classes, and this only after 
a certain degree of maturity had been attained as 
the result of an eight-year course in the ** gymnas- 
ium,'' or high school. Eligible entrants were ordi- 
narily Russian in a restricted sense; as the Jews, 
for instance, could qualify for entrance only if gold 
I medal winners in the aforementioned courses, and 

the number of even these medalists was restricted 
to one or two per cent. Thus was the sanctum sanc- 
torum, the Russian university, almost impregnable. 
Indeed, during the last few years before the war, 
when Casso was Minister of Education, Jews were 
entirely prohibited from the benefits of higher learn- 
ing. But credit must indeed be given to the Russian 
university; its students were the most truly cultured 
in the world. 

54 



I 



When Czardom tottered and its Ministers were 
placed behind the bars of the Peter and Paul For- 
tress, the new Provisional Government made its 
natural step; it put aside all barriers and opened the 
universities to all qualified candidates, Christians 
or dissenters. Of course the ten existing Russian uni- 
versities were immediately crowded to the point of 
congestion and it v/as found necessary to found new 
universities in different parts of the vast country. 
The masses, hungry for knowledge, enjoyed their 
full. 

The Bolsheviks, usurping power, found this 
condition not sufficiently to their liking. They de- 
sired to *'proletariatize" the Russian school of 
higher learning., Lunatcharsky, the Soviet Minis- 
ter of Education, decreed that the eight-year curri- 
culum of the secondary school be annulled. Exami- 
nations^ requirements, etc., were all nil. Even acad- 
emic credit for examinations previously passed was 
robbed of recognition. The new class of ''stu- 
dents,'* often unable to write or read a line fairly 
accurately^ was given the same rights as were ac- 
corded the really educated student of former days. 
The Russian world of scholarship, as of politics, be- 
came quickly infested with released jailbirds and 
deserters anxious to exchange their gray prison caps 
for blue students' hats. In a short time the genuine 
student found himself in an embarrassed position, 
for the newcomer abused him as one of lofty noble 
caste, and the former was even forced to abandon 
the walks of his beloved Alma Mater, whose shelter 
he had won only after arduous trials. 



The professors at first protested, but Lenine 
replied to them curtly; if they would desert their 
chairs, they would be classed as sabotagers, in which 
event their salaries and food tickets would be with- 
held. If, however, the professors would yield to 
Lenine 's programme, they would be placed in the 
'* first category' ' and their salaries made the highest 
in the land. 

What could the poor pedants do? Naturally, 
they yielded. 

Imagine now the conditions existent in the re- 
vered Russian university. 



56 



HUNGER MIGRATION. 

When bread became so scarce in the central pro- 
dnces that even the peasants could not obtain it at 
any price, however exorbitant the eyes of the masses 
turned to the Ukraine and Siberia for relief. 

These fertile provinces had always fed central 
Russia in time of need. But since Kerensky^s regime 
these had been declared * 'independent sovereign- 
ties.'' Access to them has become impossible. The 
All-Russian railway system has collapsed. Passen- 
ger service ?s nil save for Delegates — trains of two 
or three first-class carriages reserved for Bolshevik 
'representatives." Often cattle trains can be seen 
containing confiscated horses, cows, etc. And in 
this last mode of c nveyance the peasants have man- 
aged their long journey to the distant fertile pro- 
vinces in quest of bread. 

The travel to the Ukraine, say from Moscow, 
normally eighteen to twenty hours in duration, now 
occupies five or six weeks. But when one has enough 
courage, patience and some money one can overcome 
this obstacle. Partly by cattle train, partly by wagon 
mostly on foot, one can ultimately scrape one's way 
to the outer provinces of plenty, to the God-blessed 
Ukraine, where bread and potatoes are plentiful and 
where they can be sold by the peasant owner to 
whomever and for whatever he pleases. 

Lenine's agents gradually detected this secret 
hunger migration. Warning was immediately sent 
broadcast that returning ''passengers" found in 
cattle trains with contraband food in possession 
would have it confiscated. A vigilant border inspec- 
tion ensued. Peasants driven beyond the border for 

57 



bread and anxious to return to their hungry families 
on the precious soviet soil met these Bolshevik 
guards with vehement opposition. The feud waxed 
in terror. Armed caravansaries of peasants, sev- 
eral hundred strong, set out in armed defiance. 
Finally a vast avalanche of bread slaughter swept 
over Russia, until the communistic authorities saw 
the futility of it all and compromised by allowing a 
bi-weekly passage to every citizen supplied with 
about forty pounds of grain. The bread feuds some- 
what abated. 

But worse calamity has arisen. The agricul- 
tural populations of Siberia and the Ukraine had 
formerly been greatly dependent on the factories of 
central Russia for clothing and shoes. Now this sup- 
ply of manufactured commodities had ceased. Mean- 
while their own supply of food was being depleted 
by the Germans, their new protectors. So they be- 
gan voicing a genuine demand for these manufac- 
tured articles, finally decreeing that no foodstuffs 
were to be allowed into central Russia unless accom- 
panied with an exchange of linen, leather, etc. But 
where could the poor Russian peasants obtain these 
finished commodities? Whatever was in sight had 
already been confiscated by the Bolsheviks. 

Helpless, defrauded peasants, deluded ^'benefi- 
ciaries^' of the Revolution, ground like their own 
chaff between the mill-stones of the gods! Is it any 
wonder they start to cry out in despair for their 
Czar of old, who, though a despot, protected them 
from robbery and murder? 



58 




I 



THE PLIGHT OF ARISTOCRACY. 

Before the markets in the big cities were closed 
(they were closed in Nov. 1918.) the sight was com- 
mon of an aristocratic lady, vestments in hand, 
abused by a rough soldier for demanding a high price 
for her wares. Since November 1 such scenes have 
deteriorated to worse. 

As is well known, most of the aristocracy in 
Russia were in the military service. The first as- 
sault of the Bolsheviki was thereore on the ''mili- 
tary caste.'' 

The plight of the dependents of this class, be- 
reft of defenders and fortune, is beyond conception. 
They cannot even sell papers. Suicides have been 
common; hunger deaths even more common. Some 
have gone upon the streets. Often can be seen the 
frail, refined figure of a former noblewoman wend- 
ing her way along the Nevsky Prospect in the midst 
of rain and cold in the pursuit of bread for her chil- 
dren. 

. I was accosted by one such figure and recalled 
the voice; it was the well-known baroness whose 
hospitable Fridays were long ago known all over 
Russia; indeed, she was a close friend of the Imper- 
ial household, and her husband died among the first 
days of the war on the battelfield with Archduke 
Oleg Konstantinovitch. She saw that I recognized 
her, and the moment was painful. 

59 



WHAT CAN BE DONE FOR RUSSIA. 

Whenever I happen to talk on Bolshevism, I am 
confronted by the question: ''Ought the world to 
interfere in Russian internal affairs? A problematic 
query, I admit. But having the knowledge of the 
Russian situation even from Bolshevist point of view 
I could answer without hesitation. It ought not, 
but it must. For the Russian tragely is interna- 
tional. It is the epidemic of the world. Yes, interven- 
tion must come and come immediately. For it is most 
dangerous when the enemy becomes confident of his 
forces. And the Bolsheviki are more than confident, 
they are certain of their victory. It also must not 
be forgotten that the Soviets have gathered most 
wonderfully in the past three years an army of over 
three million men, an army which is young, power- 
ful and enthusiastic. These are fanatics who have 
no concern for their personal lives, regarding death 
merely a sacrifice for the sake of humanity. From 
this we can see that the terrible, brutal and imprac- 
tical Bolshevism, is transformed by these fanatics 
into a new religion. A creed for the International 
Proletariate. — 

We know how harmful is such religious belief, 
but the half developed workingman who has more 
faith than knowledge, does not know. He believes. 
And in this lies the greatest danger; for faith and 

60 



fanaticism gc, in such cases, hand in hand. In short, 
Bolshevism is a religious sect whose chief prophets 
are Lenine and Trotzky, and whose principal ideal 
as we have already seen, is Destruction. 

Like all sectarian movements, Bolshevism is 
quite infectious. With gigantic steps it is striding 
the world. Today there is no country but shelters 
a nest of this sickly sect. And this is only after two 
years of its existence in the Far North. 

But most surprising is the fact of the world's 
indifference to this danger. One could often hear: 
**That what is happening in Russia can never hap- 
pen here.'' It might sound ridiculous were it not so 
tragic. Fcr this naive self-assurance was the very 
cause that brought the Allies to the present shame- 
ful negotiations with the Lenine-Trotzky govern- 
ment. The Bolshevik danger was already so evident 
that the Entente could not help seeing it. 

Ohj if only the eyes of the Nations were open at 
least one year ago as wide as they are open now. They 
would not have to feel so desperate and forlorn as 
they now feel. The world would perhaps by now 
have settled in peace, instead of partaking in one of 
the fiercest battles ever fought by brother against 
brother. The lives of millions might have been 
spared, countless cities, towns and villages would 
remain undestroyed, billions of dollars not ex- 
changed into valueless paper, destructive powder 
and bulletS; and the deeds of Cain considerably di- 
minished. For, despite the slight differences in their 
religious traditions, Russia and Poland are children 
of one mother — Slavia, who speak nearly the same 
language, have many like customs and breathe the 



T 



very same air. And to think that merely one hun- 
dred thousand men sent in time, could have not only 
prevented this bloody struggle but possibly brought 
an end to the entire Bolshevik movement. But. this 
had to be done a year ago. Now, there is no time for 
such means. The opportunity is lost. For while 
the Allies were busy in creating various optimistic 
dreams,, the Bolshevik Menace kept on advancing. 
It did its work slowly but surely. But altho the sit- 
uation is very acute it is yet not fatal. One remedy 
is still left. This is the final lifting of the preposter- 
ous blockade at any cost. 

For as long as the Bolsheviki are left isolated 
from the entire world and there is none to call a halt 
to their atrocities, they will continue to wreck their 
lust upon the helpless Russian people, until there 
will remain none but Bolsheviki. 

The unprotected Russians will be left the choice 
either to join the Bolshevik ranks or to die. 

But with the blockade lifted, and a window 
opened to the world at wide, a new stream of hope 
must fill the exhausted Russian souls. Then, with 
the kindly help of the Allied nations, Russia may 
probably shake off the heavy burden of her hateful 
oppressors. For you must not forget that Russia 
is a nation of almost two hundred millions! and the 
Bolsheviki, disregarding their boasting of being in 
the majority, are a mere minority of scarcely one- 
fifth, most of whom are even not Russians. 

But Russia is starving. And a starving body 
can by no means keep up a living spirit. Therefore 
the first step necessary — is to bring in enough food 
to revive the emaciated bodies of the Russian popu- 

62 



lation. And as there are no other means at pres 
ent to treat with Russia than through the recogni- 
tion of the Bolsheviki, well then we must recognize 
them TEMPORARILY. But immediately. And 
the rest — the rest we can leave to the Russians 
themselves. When the exhausted body of the na- 
tion will be strengthened by food, the great Russian 
spirit will surely recover its wonted vigor — then woe 
to the intruders. For Bolshevism — as Lenine him- 
self had admitted, has been derived from hunger and 
it can thrive only in the shadow of Starvation. Re- 
move hunger and Bolshevism must perish in a nat- 
ural way. Under normal conditions there can be no 
ground for this social parasite. 

There is also nothing to fear for the progress of 
Bolshevism when through recognition of the Soviet 
Government, its real features will be exposed to the 
open world. Bolshevism attracts the masses only 
because it remains a mystery, because Lenine ^s 
agents are depicting it before their unenlightened 
audiences in heavenly colors. 

But when Bolshevism will be brought home to 
foreign workers in the very same form as it has been 
brought home to the Russian population — with all 
its brutal and selfish details — then the masses will 
realize that they were deluded, as the Russian multi- 
tude is now realizing it, then together with their com- 
rades of the north they will try to forsake the very 
thought of this sham-ideal BOLSHEVISM. 



63 



THE BLOCKADE. 

For over three years more than a hundred million 
Russian souls are weltering in blood and famine be- 
hind the gory barrier of the Bolsheviki. Their 
agonized appeal: ''Lift the blockade!'' was heard 
all over the world. The death cry of millions of 
women and children, the cry for bread and clothing, 
reached many ears of the allied chiefs, but they pre- 
tended not to hear it. And no relief came. 

There were many good spokesmen outside the 
red walls of Bolshevik Russia. In a thousand differ- 
ent ways they expressed the very same idea: ''Rus- 
sia can be saved only through the lifting of this in- 
human blockade.*' But the Russian champions 
abroad succeeded no more than the Russians them- 
selves within their seclusion. 

There was one semi-sane voice among the entire 
herd of blockaders, and this was Lloyd-G-eorge's. 
His practical eye foresaw the sad outcome of this 
blockading system. He even predicted openly that 
if the Lenine party be left uncontrolled behind the 
barriers of the blockade the Bolsheviki will gain 
their victory. And as we can see, the British Pre- 
mier was right. But. . . .but France was then "in 
fashion", and whatever France's leader, the ex- 
anarchist Clemenceau, said was a law to everybody. 
Only now, when the infatuation with this "hero" is 
over, and when the victory of the Bolshevik forces 



is no more doubtful, the entente decided to start 
negotiations with the Bolsheviki. But to what end 
will the present treaties bring, will be seen when 
we'll cast a further glance behind the red barrier. 

First of all, how do the Bolsheviki accumulate 
so much strength that it enables them not only to 
proceed in their own Cain job, but also to lend their 
destructive power to millions of their associates all 
over the world? The upheavals in Germany and 
Austro-Hungary, the revolts in England, France, 
Italy and even America's own steel, harbor and rail- 
road strikes have long ceased to be economic as pre- 
tended, but are of a strict political, or rather, Bolshe- 
vistic character. 

The wholesale arrests of radicals which has 
taken place within the first part of this year have 
fairly unmasked the real features of these mutinies. 
There can be no doubt whatsoever that the hot, pois- 
onous breath of the Russian red monster has already 
infected the pure air of our republic. And the pro- 
gressive victory of the Russian Reds over the allied 
forces on all fronts had shown that the Bolshevik 
power is growing, not daily, but hourly. 

NoW; where lies the source of their power? Who 
helps them to gain their brutal victories? I know 
it will appear incredible to you when I'll tell you^ 
the allies. Yes, the allies with their dreadful block- 
ading system. 

This can be easily verified by showing some il- 
luminating facts, which I have witnessed in my so- 
journ under the rule of the Bolsheviki. I have 
watched the birth and growth of their main sup- 
port — the Red Army. I have seen hundreds of my 

65 



friends and acquaintances, loyal and devoted consti- 
tutionalists and even monarchists, joining the ranks 
of the Bclsheviki. Their views had not been altered 
a whit; as they were, so they remained — loyal to 
their old creeds and traditions. But the Bolshevik 
melting pot spared no personal opinion in its terrific 
fusion, for having no ideal depth of their own, how 
could it accommodate the profound, pure alloy of 
others? The Bolsheviki were possessed of one pur- 
pose — to found an army of three millions. 

To achieve this goal they employ a simple, but 
most eifective, method. If they know that in this 
or that house dwell one or more men capable of ser- 
vice in the Red Army they order the House Com- 
mittee to inform these men that they shall present 
themselves immediately at certain mobilization 
quarters. If the person summoned is anti-Bolshe- 
vist in sentiment, which is often the case, and fails 
to appear, none seems to notice the fact. But when 
his family or himself comes for the monthly meal 
card, the secretary of the House Committee de- 
mands the recruiting card in exchange. No card, no 
food for the entire family! Naturally the alterna- 
tive is either starvation or recruitment. And the 
Red army increases from month to month, and the 
Bolshevist state of affairs proceeds truly on greased 
wheels. 

But the gigantic growth of the Red Army must 
be attributed to the kindly efforts of the allied en- 
tente. . Yes, indeed, England, France, and also 
America are participating actively in this good 
work. This is the conviction of scores of millions 
of Russian inhabitants, including the entire Bol- 

66 



shevik military staff, scattered everywhere. This 
horrible blockade which is strangling the throats of 
millions of Russian children and women, is the chief 
impetus for the rise of the manifold Soviet forces. 

This * 'economic blockade'^ has proved to be a 
success — for Bolshevism. Those who sought thereby 
to effect an end to the Red regime have found them- 
selves in error. Their attempt has only attested 
their utter ignorance of conditions as existent in 
present-day Russia. For if they were better versed 
in the Bolshevik slogan, *' Bolshevism at any price!'' 
they would not so easily have yielded this terrible 
weapon — starvation — into the active hand of the 
Soviet champions. 

Possibly the allied entente was forgetful of the 
fact that those calling themselves Bolsheviki and 
really constituting as I said but a sixth or the high- 
est — one-fifth of the population of 100,000,000 souls 
in central Russia, were little effected by the grim 
results of the blockade. This minority has monopo- 
lized all necessities of life. 

Disregarding all else, Russia, it must be ad- 
mitted, is an agricultural country of great wealth. 
These Bolsheviki, now holding the upper hand, are 
constantly confiscating all commodities of primal 
necessity for their own barns and warehouses. By 
means of these reserves they maintain their army 
and other adherents. To the populace they misrely 
dictate: **You are against us — die!*' 

In this solitary respect, the Russian multitude 
is most obedient — especially the little children and 
the frail women; they die! They die by the thou- 
sands day after day. And those men who do not 

67 



yet wish to die can face no other recourse than to 
join the Red army. And therein lies the secret for 
the rapid expanse of the Bolshevist fighting forces. 
At the begininng of 1918 the Bolsheviki could muster 
a mere handful of tattered vagabonds; and now they 
may boast of a standing army of about three mil- 
lions. 

Did the Bolsheviki create this army? No, with- 
out the kindly aid of the allies they never could have 
accomplished this feat. It is due to the wonderful 
achievement of the blockade! Or, to say better, of 
the intolerable hunger resulting from the blockade. 
And the Soviet authorities understand this quite 
well, and in the depths of their egotistic souls they 
scoff at the short-sighted blockaders. Perhaps, too, 
they thank them. 

No power in the world can so enslave human 
nature as hunger. In the international army of crim- 
inals, it may be claimed that the vast majority of 
them were first driven to their illicit pursuit — espe 
cially to thievery — by the pang of starvation. Often 
these unfortunates robbed for themselves — oftimes 
for their intimates, for their children, parents, 
little brothers and sisters. The same is with regard 
to the Red army. Witnessing every day how their 
dearest one — ^wife or child — falls in the street like 
crumbless flies cr insects; knowing full well that 
there is no other source of life anywhere in Russia; 
feeling their own strength gradually ebbing away, 
the men in everyday Russia can face no other path 
out of their dilemma but to lvow allegiance to the 
ranks of the Red freebooters. . For, as soon as they 

68 



are in a position to display their respective recruit- 
ing cards, they are sure that the wolf is kept at a 
safe distance from their homes, and their dearest 
ones are spared the tragic end of starvation. And 
the Red soldier himself? He risked nothing but his 
own life. And even this chance was slight, for there 
were possibilities of survival. In his former state 
he enjoyed little chance for safety altogether; for 
hunger played its cards slowly but surely. And no 
matter hov/ reluctant the thought, how prolonged 
the hesitation, the hungry father and husband inev- 
itably followed the path directly to the recruiting 
center. The hottest fiend of Bolshevism is thus 
pressed into the horde of Bolshevik enthusiasts by 
the devastating effect of the blockade, and in the 
depths of his famished soul he cries with the rest 
of them, '^Long J'^e our bread-givers!^* Indeed, a 
nation lives on its stomach. 

Now if this inhuman blockade were lifted; if 
food were admitted into the land, at least to the ex- 
tent allowed to Germany; if the Russian populace 
were not forced to turn for food, for a crumb of 
bread, a piece of herring, a can of this or that, solely 
to the hand of the Bolsheviki; if the Russian subject 
were impressed with the unwillingness of the outer 
world to let his wife, child, old mother, or sweet 
heart to perish for the lack of a bit of bread, would 
they throng to the malodorous barracks to risk their 
lives for the sake of Bolshe\ism? I say: No! 



69 




WHAT N. LENINE THINKS ABOUT IT 

But even more convinced was I in this theory 
when I happened to hear almost this same opinion 
from the lips of the Prince of Paupers, Nicholai Le- 
nine. It was in October, 1918, when after a mid 
night raid when I was bereft by a score of Bolshevist 
officials, of everything I possessed, that I was hon- 
ored to be presented, before the eyes of his proletar- 
ian majesty and had a long conference with him. 

Through the agencies of one of my wife's ac- 
quaintances, namely, through the commandant of 
the Kremlin, the ex- journalist, Bontche-Bruievich, 
I was enabled to approach with no slight difficulty, 
the imposing audience chamber of the proletarian 
dictator. It v/as on a Thursday, as I remember, 
about eleven in the morning. The Bolshevik pre 
mier was enthroned in one of the royal chambers of 
the Russian czars of the middle ages, in the same 
room where his predecessor, Ivan the Terrible, had 
issued ukases similar to those of Lenine, the Red. He 
was seated at a large council table bedecked with a 
gory covering. (This table was a novelty; in my pre- 
revolutionary visits to the Kremlin I had never seen 
this piece of furniture). On that table were strewn 
pamphlets and newspapers in various languages. 

In accordance with diplomatic usage I ad- 
dressed myself to Lenine in French, the language in 
which I had written my letter requesting the audi- 
ence. Lenine responded in fluent English to the 

70 



eifect, if I so desired, I could employ my native 
tongue. I was astonished at the proletarian ruler's 
mastery of the English language. His vocabulary 
was that of a scholar; in fact, quite pedantic in 
choice of phrases. And the diction was perfect; a 
faint trace of foreign accent being noticeable now 
and then, when Lenine became excited. The Arch- 
Bolshevik watched every movement I made with 
marked suspicion; although he must have known 
the scrupulous examinations to which his visitors 
are subjected prior to admission into his presence. 
Apparently the wound inflicted by the woman-as- 
sassin not long before had not yet been healed in 
his memory. And Lenin p for this reason, fancied 
an enemy in every face he met. 

Because of several translations I was forced to 
make for the Soviet, it seemed that the sound of my 
name was not strange to the ears of Lenine. The dic- 
tator hinted this himself in order to indicate his fa- 
miliarity with every detail of official activity. It 
was, therefore, in a tone of inf orm^ality that he turn 
ed to me and commented: *'I thought very well of 
your translation of the Hilquit-Untermeyer debate 
on Socialism which you recently made for us. How 
does it happen th-^t you have mastered our difficult 
Russian tongue so easily?' ' 

** There ought to be little wonder in that fact, 
sir,'' I rejoined, ''for I have been living in Russia 
for nearly ten years. But what amazes me, indeed, 
is that the proletarian premier has acquired such 
fluent command of the intricate English! So far as 
I am aware you have never lived in England or 
America." 

71 



1 



This compliment evidently appealed to Lenine. 
But seemingly unwilling to prolong the conversa- 
tion on this subject, he turned abruptly: ''I spent a 

short time in England but in what way can I be 

of service to you, comrade?*' 

His transition was so sudden that I was for a 
moment at a loss. But the purpose of my errand 
immediately rushed to my tongue and I began: 

'*I-er wish to acquaint you, sir, with the facts of 
a case that ought to interest you, although it touch- 
es upon a matter chiefly of personal interest.'* 

''Tell it. I hear you,'* the dictator remarked. 

I set forth in a few words the incidents connect- 
ed with the raid committed upon my quarters, elab- 
orating on the essential details and mentioning the 
approximate value of the objects confiscated. In 
finale, I sought Lenine 's opinion on the issue as to 
whether a citizen of a friendly nation — and one 
moreover, entitled to diplomatic immunity — ^was 
not considered to be free from the yoke of national 
confiscation. 

Lenine, listening attentively, rested his head 
upon his arm and knitted his brows in cogitation. 

I availed of the moment to study the features 
of the premier. This was not my first opportunity 
to view the personality of Nicholai Lenine. Ten 
years before, in my university course at Geneva, I 
had heard Lenine, then a slightly popular emigrant, 
holding an pformal lecture on socialism. Long 
thereafter, in the day of Kerensky, I saw this same 
figure posed on the balcony of the ballet dancer — 
Kshesinsky's palace in Petrograd. I also read a few 

72 



monographs by Lenine on political economy. But 
for the first time I was that day in the immediate 
vicinity of this historic figure. 

I was, naturally, curious to analyze the type of 
genius inherent in that spirit which could upturn 
half of the world in a few months. Surely, such a 
leader must have that divine fire capable of kindling 
the hearts of men to lofty aspirations. How could 
it be otherwise? But my effort was in vain. No 
sign of the superman was visible. One of the ordi- 
nary Russian countenances, with ordinary manners 
of the Russian student, unable to dispose his hands 
and feet conveniently. The eyes, which are usually 
mirrors of human understanding — Lenine ^s Tartar 
sight reflected no heavenly vision. In contrary, they 
betrayed a sluggishness, dull and abnormal — per- 
haps a trace of degeneration. This suspicion was 
borne out by the pointedness of his forehead. Occa- 
sionally, when a bright thought sped through his 
mind, his eyes seemed to flicker in keen enthusi- 
asm, but even then the gleam was eloquent of fanati- 
csim rather than of inspired genius. 

Lenine did not long ponder over my problem. 
His visage quickly assumed the quasi-oflicial ex- 
pression of the democratic leader and without the 
least hesitation he declared his verdict: **I am not 
in entire accord with the various steps taken by the 
different Soviets, but I have no authority to hinder 
their action. Your case is exceptional, I admit; but 
that it is 'unjust,' as you claim, I cannot see. You 
just expressed yourself that your government has 
not openly declared war against us — h*mph, that is 

73 



not exactly so. The prisoners in American uniform 
we have taken on the Murman coast seem to contra- 
dict your view. I trust that you, personally, who 
have seen the Czar's despotism, Kerensky's help- 
lessness, and our constructive efforts — you look up- 
on us with eyes different from those of the unin- 
formed foreigner. I must sum up in this wise: In 
the eyes of the Soviet you are merely a rich citizen 
of a hostile nation. In that case, how can you ex- 
pect better treatment than that accorded to our 
own leading bourgeoise.^' 

*' Unfortunately, Mr. Premier, I cannot agree 
with you,*' I exclaimed. ^* Please do not overlook 
the fact that in confiscating Russian wealth you 
are confiscating property accumulated in this coun- 
try. This may in your fashion explain the cause for 
your * nationalization.* But when the Petrograd So 
viet breaks into my house at midnight and rifles 
the wealth I brought from my own country — you 
are aware — I earned nothing in your country-then 
I am compelled to view, in my simple democratic 
way, this whole affair as a fine feat of midnight 
burglary.'* 

Lenine's face had been so vastly altered this 
instant that I scarcely recognized it. A very slight 
smile lighted his wearied, stern visage. He probably 
discerned that I was grieved not so much at my ma- 
terial loss, but of the ethics of the principles. Who 
knows? At any rate, putting his hand on my arm, 
he exclaimed: .''Perhaps you are right. I will do 
what I can for you. But I promise nothing for cer- 
tain. '* 

74 



I have always considered Lenine as a serious 
character. Having descended from a noble ancestry 
whose blood had flowed for Russian honor on battle- 
fields and in revolutions for generations, it was 
hardly possible for Vladimir Hitch Ulianoff — Nico- 
lai Lenine — to be reckoned a traitor to his father 
land. If he were a tool of the Prussian junkers, I 
was convinced that Lenine had filled this role un- 
consciously. Being an inveterate 'enemy of the 
scepter and crown, it was hardly credible that he 
could ally himself with such obnoxious imperialists 
as the German general staff. Yet Lenine was only 
one; and one swallow, as the saying goes, never 
brings a summer. 

I was certain that the Bolshevik uprising had 
been fostered by Teuton interests. For immediately 
after the October revolution Lenine himself had 
avowed in the official Soviet organ that since the 
beginning of Kerensky^s regime, he had been fi- 
nanced by German Socialists through the medium 
of Karl Liebknecht. I have reflected that these 
finances might have sprung originally from the im- 
perial treasury, but I was almost impelled to doubt 
that this Bolshevik dreamer could be aware of this 
iniquitous source. Trotsky, Zinovieff, Joffe and oth- 
ers were certainly subsidized by the Kaiser, but 
surely, not Lenine! I recollected Trotsky's boasting 
at the Smolny Institute that he would let no such 
question as ''Whence cometh the money'' obstruct 
the path of the great humanitarian ideal of freeing 
the enslaved. 

This cynical speech had shown the true char 
acter of the Bolshevik leaders, that is, of all save 

75 



Lenine. He is indeed the moral mentor of Bolshev- 
ism. He clarified the point that such revolution as 
Russia's could never transpire by means of money, 
but solely through lofty principles. And he ex- 
pressed this conviction with such sincerity that I 
was forced to conclude that though Lenine might be 
a fanatic he was truly no knave. 

Our talk had centered on money. A few 
months previously the Czecho- Slovaks had captured 
Kazan with the entire Russian gold reserves. I sug- 
gested to Lenine the possible effects of this tremen- 
dous loss. 

^'Only the best effects will result for us/' he 
stated vigorously. ''Money has no value for us. Our 
chief purpose is to destroy the very basis of the cap- 
italistic system. The only sad feature is that this 
money had fallen into the hands of our enemies 
whom it might strengthen temporarily. But we do 
not fear them. Their future is dismal. They are 
worthy followers of Kerensky — ^without spirit or 
principle. Kerensky had everything and we de- 
feated him. They have almost nothing — and what 
can they do to us? Open a morning paper and you 
will read that every day their troops are deserting 
to our ranks in full squadrons. What, think you, is 
doing this? Money? No. Our high principles and 
our constant propaganda of these principles within 
their lines.'' 

''So may it be, I admitted, 'but this cannot 
last forever; if your men are not dying from the 
enemy's bullets they fall by the thousands from a 
much stronger enemy — from the all-destructive hun- 
ger/ 

76 



Hunger!'' exclaimed the dictator with a 
sudden laugh. 'Hunger is our truest associate; our 
entire victory depends on hunger, and let me tell you 
that our men are not suffering from hunger in the 
least; there is no starvation in our army. Our fight- 
ers are fairly well fed. Only those who do not sup- 
port our ideals are condemned to starvation.' 

Here for the first time I understood to what de- 
gree the entente blockaders are playing into the 
hands of the Bolsheviks. Lenine, apparently, 
guessed my thought, and his tiny Tartar eyes reveal- 
ed a hidden sneer. I was not much pleased with this 
mocking expression of the dictator, and discreetly 
returned to the previous topic. *If you are so op- 
posed to money, why are your printing presses turn- 
ing it out so intensively?' 

Lenine replied without hesitation: ''Only to 
make it absolutely worthless! We have already ar- 
rived at that stage when you can buy nothing for 
money. The peasant will sell you no bread or pota- 
toes for money; he wants boots, clothing or tools in 
exchange. If you want to eat — work. Sit down at 
the weaving loom or at the cobbler's bench. If you 
produce nothing — die! Our Bolshevik system has no 
place for idlers!" 

I felt myself doused as with a bucket of cold 
water. This was frankness enough; aye brutal 
frankness! And, indeed, the state to which the 
country had been reduced had been accurately de- 
picted by Lenine. I recalled an experience a few days 
before when I tried to purchase a blanket in the 
Alexandrovsky market. 

77 



^ 



'* ^How much do you want for your ware?' I 
asked. 
** * Twenty pounds of bread!' the dealer replied. 

** 'Where can I get bread? How much money 
do you want?' 

'^ 'Money? What is it good for! Have no 
bread? Give potatoes or grits.' 

I dismissed this incident from my mind as mere- 
ly a consequence of a prolonged and unfortunate war 
and its preying effect upon the minds of the hungry. 
But that this state of affairs could be the result of 
direct official effort was until now scarcely within 
my comprehension. A government ruining its own 
currency! 

But the large wall clock pointed accusingly to 
the closing minute of the interview. I rose. At the 
last moment a thought struck me which I considered 
of possible interest to my government. 

''After you have destroyed your currency," I 
askedj "how will you repay your obligations to 
America, England and France? Of course, the pres- 
ent regime intends to assume the debts inherited 
from its predecessors. As jurist, you are aware 
that the heir assumes both the assets and liabilities 
included in his heritage." 

Lenine, who had peviously risen from his chair, 
now quickly resumed his sitting posture. In his 
abrupt direct manner, he pronounced vigorously and 
distinctly: 

"We believe — or better, we are convinced — that 
we shall not be obliged to repay these old debts. Not 
because we will not want to, but because we will 
not need to. Two years, at the longest— and the 

78 



obsolete capitalistic system must vanish from the 
surface of the earth. And our anti-capitalistic com- 
rades, the future proletarian ruler of Europe and 
America will, surely not seek to molest Russia — the 
Mother of International Bolshevism — with the old 
debts arranged among its late oppressors. If, how- 
ever, my calculations delude me — which I hardly 
think possible — then we will treat these obligations 
in the natural way, through the channels of inter- 
national trade. 

'* Russia is rich!'^ prclaimed the fanatic econo- 
mist. "Our super and subsurface resources are in- 
exhaustible. If we shall have to pay, we will pay 
with the produce of our rich mines and endless for 
ests. But think not that we will be so stupid and so 
ignorant as the czarists, who bestowed concessions 
without reckon or thought! 0, no! Many of us have 
specialized in agricultural and economic matters and 
have a fair estimate of the correct appraisal of our 
resources. Every vein and every tree will be under 
the control of our national overseers. That we do 
not consider the worth of money is by no means an 
indication that we likewise consider our natural re- 
sources of no value. We are no destroyers of Rus- 
sia!'^ 

With these words my audience with him came 
to an end. Exactly forty-five minutes had been its 
duration. 

That Russia was indescribably rich I always 
knew, but that the Bolsheviki were making a scien- 
tific appraisal of her resources was certainly unex- 
pected news. If I had only more time I would have 

79 



asked how so scientific a veiw could be reconciled 
with the terroristic overturn of industry. Naturally, 
Lenine might have had his explanation for this, too. 

What impressed me most since the interview 
was the fact that Lenine was not at all so extrava- 
gant with the Russian paper money as he implied. 
On the contrary, he seemed to take good care of these 
notes. For instance, the Russian ruble has at that 
time depreciated more than ten times. Lenine has 
ascertained this to exact valuation, and had adjust- 
ed salaries accordingly — 10 copecks to the ruble. The 
worker who once earned 50 — 60 Rs. per month now 
receives 500 — 600 rubles. And this is not all. If one 
member of a family is employed by the government 
— there are no private employers any longer — no 
other members of the family can work. If the head 
of the family cannot sustain all then another mem- 
ber may work, but the head receives a reduced wage. 
This shows how economically they distribute even 
their paper money. 

Another interesting point is seen on departure 
from Russia. In the first place none is generally per- 
mitted to leave the country. But when one is, for- 
tunately, for special reasons, allowed departure, 
then he is allowed to take with him only 500 rubles. 
From this we can see that the entire distribution 
of paper money turned out by the presses in twenty- 
four hours is strictly confined to Russia. 

It reminds me of a reckless son of a multi-mil- 
lionaire, hurling bank-notes taken from the father's 
safe, through the open window of his house. This 
money falls into his own garden, where his father's 

80 



faithful servants pick it up and bring it back to the 
safe. 

This is the present state of Russia. Chaotic, up- 
turned — but not entirely ruined. Sick, very sick, 
but not yet dead. 



THE END. 



(PRINTED BY NKWS-POST, FREDERICK, MD.) 

81 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

Grermany's Role 1 

Kerensky 6 

Russia of Bygone Days 15 

Russia, The Home of Modern Music, Letters and 

Art 19 

The Russia of Today 22 

The Persecution of Foreigners 24 

Categories 28 

Soviets 31 

A Week For the Poor 37 

Vera's Case 39 

Schools and Teachers 50 

Universities and Technical Institutions 54 

Hunger Migration 57 

The Plight of Aristocracy 59 

What Can Be Done For Russia 60 

The Blockade 67 

What N. Lenine Thinks About It 70 



\ 



